Frosted Steel
by The Obsidian Pen
Summary: An experiment gone wrong, but would show the promise it actually brought. The IMC has most of its resources and men fighting the Militia, so things were slow, but Marder didn't need more than the Apex Predators, they'd make sure they took what they wanted. There'll be no trouble as long as the Westerosi don't do anything. . . regrettable.
1. The One That Brought More

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 **Single perspective story, you read the thoughts and feelings from a single person's point of view. I'll make it clear who it is from the get-go.**

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 **Game Of Thrones Has Dragons And Torches; But Titanfall Has Northstars And Scorches!**

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 **Chapter One: The One That Brought More**

" _Beginning Phase Test Three in five minutes, all personnel to their designated positions,_ " Blisk heard Marder through the PA system. "Remember your roles _, we have much to do._ "

Another phase test, but this one held promise. "You're certain of this, Ash?" Blisk asked the pilot simulacrum as he walked by her to her spot in this test. "I'd hate to lose a decent pilot simply because you fancied the concept of traveling into the phase dimension, or whatever it is you bloody scientists call it."

"Is that worry I detect, Blisk?" she asked neutrally in her robotic voice. "As the one who fixed their formulas, I believe I have right to have some fun with their technology, and even get paid to do so."

Ever since they reached the research facility on planet Typhon, Ash had taken to the R&D department, even going further to make this 'Reaper Initiative' with the eggheads here. As long as it was on her time, and it wasn't hampering her work, then Blisk didn't give a damn. An advantage for a pilot simulacrum, they didn't need to sleep, so she had plenty of time.

"I was thinking more along the lines of not losing a lieutenant simply because she wanted to play with new IMC toys," he said as they walked into a warehouse-like area with a new, vanilla-white Stryder-class Titan in the center of it. They called it Ronin, a class of fast moving Titans that used massive swords. An outdated method, but the damage it put out when close in during a test spar was astounding.

"So you _are_ worried." He could never know if she's amused or not, she always sounded the same. Experience emotions, she might; showing emotions, not in this lifetime. "I'll be sure to record this moment into my databanks." He couldn't even tell if she was joking or not.

She always sounded bored, even when she clearly said she was excited, which made it sound sarcastic with her monotonous voice. Ever since they arrived here to guard the damn place, she'd been having 'fun', or whatever it was she claims to feel. The Apex Predators were there to protect the facility, not take part in them.

The Militia had been gaining some ground recently, and this system was fairly on the edge of it, but was confidential information so very few knew about it. As part of their effort to keep it hidden, very few ships came here to keep people from noticing. Still, the Apex Predators were here as a precaution.

Blisk watched as Ash climbed into the Ronin's cockpit. "I don't feel like losing an ace, so this is your last chance, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Did he sound worried? Perhaps, but more proper pilots on their side meant more battles won, and more bonuses from the IMC.

"The previous two failed from mistakes on the human's end, but I, a simulacrum with a supercomputer instead of a brain, fixed it for this attempt. If it works, we both get paid. If it fails, you get paid as reparation." Well, if she puts it that way. . . "Worry about things later," she said as the hatch closed, and the mech stood.

" _Installing Phase Drive onto Stryder Titan._ " The PA system blared as a ceiling crane rolled in with a large rectangular block the size of a human. It latched the machine on the back waist of the Ronin. " _Clear the testing zone for Phase attempt three._ "

That was his cue to leave. "Ash, this is your last chance to let a MRVN handle the risk," he told the large Titan, but knew she could hear him inside. There shouldn't be an AI on this one, or perhaps something similar to keep track of certain gauges while the pilot didn't. Then again, this was Ash he was talking about, so the Titan had an AI by default with her at the helm.

"As if a mindless utility drone would understand what to do," Ash said through the loud speakers to Blisk. "If you wish to stay here and risk imploding, be my guest." Heh, what a bitch.

Blisk said nothing as he turned around to leave the area. "You're still worth something, Ash, so don't die on me yet, aye?" he shouted without turning to look at her nor stop his walk.

Just before the blast doors sealed shut, he heard her say, "I won't."

* * *

" _Pilot, are you prepared for the test?_ " Marder said from the speakers inside the experimental Ronin. Ash had some respect for this human, especially his logic and reasoning for the use of science regardless of the value of human life in particular.

"Neural link established, nuclear power supply is green, and the connection to the Phase Drive shows a perfect link. Yes, I'm prepared for the test." This specific Titan wasn't outfitted with weapons or ordinance outside of the Phase option, which should only make her cease to exist, but also still exist, just in a different dimension of the same planet before coming back seconds later.

" _Good._ _IMC thanks you for your cooperation in this test, and will pay you greatly should this be a success._ " _Should_ this be a success? She would've laughed at the thought for such doubt, if she had the arbitrary ability to laugh, that is. " _Whenever you're ready pilot._ "

"Understood, commencing Phase in twenty seconds." At the arm of her seat, she pressed a few buttons, showing status and guages for the entire Titan. "Readings are favorable," she said to the scientists listening in, or 'eggheads' as Blisk and Kane called them. "Drive charging. Phasing in five. . . four. . . three. . . two. . . one."

Her sensors went haywire, but it was expected. Still, Ash did her best to keep things under control. "Exiting Phase Dimension in ten seconds," she told the scientists. . . No response, but that was also expected.

She was an AI, her mind worked far faster than that of a human, hence why she preferred a quick Stryder-class Titan over the behemoth Ogre-class, and the Atlas-class were simply still slower than she wished. Even with these thoughts, her computer cores were devoted to the task of reading the gauges, and altering the proper systems in rapid speed for the best condition.

If this was what was needed for all Phasing, no human can do this. Next attempt would feature a Titan AI for certain to handle this. Even with her, the neural link only did so much. To think there was a smaller version for pilots in the works, as well. Not for humans, that's for certain.

"Exiting Phase Dimension in three. . . two. . . one." The entire Titan shook as it exited, leaving the cockpit dark, and the outside sensors showed nothing. Typical human prototype engineering. "Commencing reboot for Ronin-class Titan. . ." There was no response, which was unexpected. Even if the Titan itself and its communications malfunctioned, she still had her own.

Perhaps they have as well, as odd it would be for her not to know about it. When the lights inside turned back on, so did the exterior sensors, and it was certainly a surprise, but not entirely unexpected.

Snow everywhere, and that was _not_ where she should be on the planet, but the human scientists and herself had taken into consideration that she would teleport somewhere else on Typhon. While bothersome, it wasn't unaccounted for.

That being said, the test was a success.

Ash would've smirked if she had a mouth. The Phase Drive, borrowing from human terms, would need some tweaking, but it worked. Her cores were already altering already-made formulas for how much energy should actually flow into the Drive, because clearly it was too much.

As she was doing so, she checked her navigational systems, but it showed no map, just the compass. She would've let out a sigh if she was human. Still, it was odd. Satellites should've mapped the entire area. Now that she thought about that, she saw that she wasn't connected to any satellite.

Was she so far north that there was no satellite, or were the clouds too thick for a signal? No, that was nonsense that would've made sense five-hundred years ago, but not today. IMC tech was as cutting edge as they come, no cloud could stop that.

Regardless, with no navigational systems outside of a compass, no working communications, and a freezing climate, she inside her Titan walked south. When she returned to base, she'd have a word with the ARES division about their satellites here on Typhon.

Ash checked her navigational options. Radar was active, as was motion sensors, picking up small biological fauna of Typhon. When one passed in front of her, her outer cameras saw it was a kind of rodent. "A rabbit?" she wondered out loud, which was odd of her to do, but as was this situation.

The creature hurriedly escaped the red eyes of the Titan, but Ash still saw the long ears and snow-white fur. It wasn't similar to a rabbit, but _was_ a rabbit. How could it exist on Typhon? Was the ARES division testing Earth fauna on Typhon? If so, why would it be this far up north, there were no outposts in the snowy regions.

She'd have pursed her lips if she had any, so instead she recorded the scene to bring it up to the lead scientist on this supposed discovery.

With that event recorded, she resumed her march south. Continuing her review of navigational options, she saw that she could use a terrestrial scan. It wouldn't do much, mostly scan the surface and a few meters beneath, usually used to find an energy signature of a fusion battery from a fallen Titan to be scavenged should it be needed.

Well, it was better than nothing. Ash commenced the procedure, and even redirected power to amplify its range to possible find any manmade structure. Not two seconds later, the air distorted from the pulse that went out, and it brought in a wealth of mapping information, but also something more. . .

What Ash saw had her review it again, and again, and again, and again. How was the entire ground lit up with energy? Not nuclear energy, it was. . . something else. She devoted more of her cores to process the new information.

"Am I on the same planet?" she wondered out loud again. Slone would have the best day of her life if she saw Ash use human mannerisms. With that thought and memory deleted, she stared at the screen.

Typhon was scanned in more ways than one, but none had even a fraction of this result. She needed more tools and equipment for a proper scan, but they were out of her reach, and all she had was an underequipped, prototype Titan with a prototype Phase Drive.

Checking the status of the new device, it was in somewhat working condition. A few wires loose and some parts melted, but nothing she herself wouldn't be able to fix given the proper materials with what she had on hand.

She got out of the Ronin, snow crunching beneath her bladed legs. She checked herself and her equipment, which there wasn't much of. Running diagnostics, her body was in perfect condition, just as recorded before the Phase.

As for equipment, her jump kit was in fully working order, but her only weapons were her Data Knife and a P2016 pistol with two spare magazines she was issued. Not exactly something she could fend off a predator with, but she was a pilot. By default she was a weapon, and having a multi-ton Titan helped greatly. Weapons or not, a punch from it would kill any predator.

With that done, she walked to see the Phase Drive, and opened it to see the innards. Thankfully, it wasn't damaged beyond repair, and could do it then and there given some time, but first it needed to cool as some pieces were still glowing red hot.

 _'Two hours, just to be safe,'_ she thought, and sealed it back up. Ash crouched down and took a handful of soft snow, her sensors showed it was as cold as snow should be, and soft as sand as it sifted through her mechanical fingers. Yet, it held no radiation from the energy that was lighting up the earth beneath her. It was strange, and needed to be solved.

The IMC needed to hear of this and send research teams, fleets of them. It didn't look like it had a source, but science says that would be illogical. There was a source, they just needed to find it, be it ore or something else.

She jumped back in her Titan, and continued her way south with hopes of finding an outpost or a satellite signal, but this time running at the maximum speed her Titan allowed. Fortunately, this was a Stryder-class, so they moved fast, it was something she and Viper appreciated, although he did for different reasons.

Her terrestrial scan earlier provided a detailed map, which helped greatly in nimbly moving between trees and boulders without truly hampering her speed. In a few kilometers, she'd need to scan again.

However, reviewing her new map in full showed a kind of structure in the south, too large to be a natural occurrence, but there were still some odd readings coming from it.

Thirty minutes and many miles later, she reached it, and it was nothing anyone could've expected. She approached it in her Titan, and her scans showed that it was imbued with the same energy as the ground beneath her. Not a source, but it seemed to be almost a part of that energy.

She punched the massive wall, it cracked and broke. Picking up one of the larger shards of ice, it was no longer imbued with the energy. This was very bizarre, as there should still be some residual traces of it, but there was none. Illogical!

How could something with so much energy still be this cold? Just what was this energy? She needed the IMC's resources to find out, and she won't allow this wall to stop her.

She moved back a distance, and input move set into the AI-less Titan to help her get above it in a way Kane would've loved. She exited the Titan and climbed into its hand, and squatted, ready to fling herself at the right moment. When the Ronin reared her back, it aimed high, as she calculated, and thrust her forward.

Ash jumped to maximize the distance, and it proved accurate. Pulling out her knife, she reached the wall at the apex of her height, and stabbed into the ice. She was already halfway up the wall thanks to that, and she saw the Titan crouch and go to standby mode. If she needed him, she could send a rendezvous signal and have it come to her. Whatever computer in it would either climb the wall, or punch through it, so it's possible, it's just that it would take some time to do so with a wall this thick and tall.

Personal ocular systems back up, she climbed the massive structure with her knife and jump kit, so it wasn't difficult, if frustrating for how massive this structure was. Who could've built this, and why ice? There were hundreds of other materials to use, yet they chose ice, of all things.

It took less than twenty minutes to reach the top, and as the scans previously suggested, the wall was indeed several meters thick. Why? Who? How? She listed the several questions for later, likely only one of those could be answered when a science team arrives.

From the top, she could see forest, the speck that was her Titan, and a vague outline of a mountain through the fog. When she peered from the other side, the difference couldn't have been clearer. While it was still forested, it wasn't as dense. "What was on this side of the wall?"

She deleted the memory of asking that out loud arbitrarily.

The questioned remained. On old Earth, the old nation of China built a massive wall to repel invaders, so was this made for the same reason? Could it have been from an ancient civilization the resided on Typhon several millennia ago? There was no evidence of ruins, but the IMC hadn't done nor intended to archeologically search this planet, although with this information, they would soon enough.

Looking down, the drop wasn't a small one, but her jump kit should be able to handle it. Proven with how the jump kit lit up when she jumped off. The thrusters slowly burning, but still slowing her to manageable levels.

She landed not a minute later with a crouch to disperse the force, the snow and bladed legs helped greatly in that regard. A quick diagnostic showed everything was working properly and undamaged, as well as her pistol and knife still there.

Ash saw her on-person navigational equipment, the map showing nothing but biological fauna, trees, and boulders. Looking up, the clouds were still thick and covered the sky. Thick clouds couldn't stop IMC satellites, not these. Was it the unknown energy disrupting them?

If that was true, she'd have to run far enough where the energy signature wasn't as thick, but the map with the energy from the Titan she superimposed on her own showed that it'd be a while before she could.

Her response to that? A full sprint forward to the edge of the map. She'd find a signal. If she didn't, then she'd have to use the same way she came here.

After that, though, she'd come back with more resources than a single Titan.

* * *

 _'This makes no sense,'_ Ash thought when she saw a pillar of smoke above the trees in the midday sky, but still made her way to it. If it was an IMC camp in the wilderness, how come none of them answered the radio calls she sent minutes ago? She still had the link to her Titan, yet not a single radio in this nearby camp? It could've been a forest fire, but the fact it was a lean pillar instead of a massive one told her otherwise.

A Militia camp? They still would've answered her call, even if it was with a search party and a lot of rifles. No, this was something else. The thinner the forest was getting, the more convinced she was.

She slowed as she approached the edge, what she saw was confusing and worrisome. To a simulacrum, things that didn't make sense were different than for human. Her mind was made with logic as a base, but this? This was illogical, which had her cores begin writing rational explanations.

Humans, but not the same humans she knew. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No-

Ash deleted that line of thought, and began rewriting information she knew as fact. The more she stared at this small village, the more she saw people wear leather, wool, linen, and cotton, the more concerned she became. Where has the Phase Drive brought her?

These people used oxen and mules to move carts full of wooden logs, men with thick beards and axes praising one another for a great haul of lumber. A logging village, those ceased to exist centuries ago, replacing them were logging camps that-

Her systems cancelled that line of thought to bring rationality to this. She tried to take in as much information as she could, recording them for later analysis. Things like how the only ones in uniform wore swords on their belts and wooden shields on their arms. The only marking there was is a flag with a hairy giant wearing a tunic embroidied on it.

This was irrational, her systems kept repeating. On planet Typhon, no humans besides that of the IMC settled it. _'Then this isn't Typhon.'_ Her systems calmed then, but she didn't. She needed information, and she waited until she could.

A duo of laughing women held baskets of clothes walked themselves away from the group. Ash moved to follow them, but stayed behind the line of trees. Her motion tracker helped greatly, even when they moved between buildings. Soon enough, they exited the village, and she was behind them, keeping track of anyone who snuck up on them.

It didn't take long for the two to reach a creek before setting down their baskets and begin washing clothes in the water using stones. Keeping the motion tracker in mind if anyone decided to sneak up on her, she approached the two women slowly and silently.

"My ox of a husband would sooner chop of his legs than take us to Mole's Town," Ash heard the redheaded one say with a sigh. "Honestly, it'd be much safer there near the Knights Watch than out here. Besides, I hear Castle Black are always in demand of lumber, not that Byrn would see reason, anyway."

The brunette laughed. "Oh, Lyanna, you have it easy. My husband wants to join those Umber soldiers with hopes to be a knight, it was his dream since he was but a child, and now my son has joined him in that dream. Both of them want to leave for the Last Hearth, as if Lord Umber would allow common folk to be knights so easily. 'A woman wouldn't understand a man's dream!' he'd shout." Both of them laughed at her attempt for a masculine voice.

Their language was English, but it was odd, dated even. No one spoke like that, not even in the propaganda videos of either the IMC or Militia.

"At least your husband has dreams, Sarah. Byrn was born here and would die here, and he'd remain a woodcutter to his last dying breath." She heard her sigh, then speak almost fondly. "How that buffoon captured my heart, I'd never know."

Ash had enough. She ran at the two women and jumped. The black-haired one, Sarah, turned first, and didn't have the chance to react as Ash kicked her bladed foot on her face. Sarah slammed down, knocked out or dead. Before the other could scream, Ash twisted around wrapping her mechanical fingers around her neck and put her to the ground.

The woman was on the dirt, gasping for air, trying to rip away the hand that held her neck. Ash withdrew her knife and pointed between her eyes. "You scream, you die. Understood?" Fear evident on her face, but she nodded through the tears. Ash placed the tip of her knife on her for head, and she squirmed at the feeling of the sharp tip.

The moment she loosed her grip, Lyanna gasped and sobbed, but subdued her resistance, even if she did still grip Ash's wrist. Fear raked her entire body, Ash knew her mask only amplified it, as did her unnatural voice. As long as she got answers, she didn't care.

"You will answer my questions, and when I'm done asking, you and your friend can leave," Ash said. "Lie to me, and I'll kill you both. You have answers, so you're worth something. Don't disappoint me." The woman shook, but did no more than that. "What planet am I on?"

"I-I-I don't kn- _Hng!_ " Ash pushed the knife in slightly, drawing a line of blood. "I swear by the Gods I don't know!" Didn't know her own planet? "I-I'm from Mole's Town, s-south of Castle Black, I swear!" She wasn't shouting as much as she was crying.

"You're disappointing me," Ash said, causing her to whimper and sob even more. "Tell me where I am." She kept watch on her radar. The village nearby wasn't close enough to hear her cries, but it was close enough to be a concern.

Lyanna swallowed hard. "Y-You're in Bowtown, which resides in the N-North. Please d-don-" Ash tuned out her pleads and begging.

She quieted when Ash squeezed her neck, and loosed up again. "I'm going to say a list of names, you nod when you recognize them." Lyanna nodded lightly. "Interstellar Mining Corporation." She shook her head. "Militia of the Frontier." Another shake of the head. "Hammond Robotics." She hesitated, but shook her head. Ash felt the woman's pulse race from all the negatives. "Battle of Demeter."

"Please, I don't know-" Ash squeezed her neck once more. This was no regular scenario, and as far as she could tell, this woman wouldn't dare lie to her. She hasn't yet. "I s-swear-" she tried to say through the choke.

Still, Ash loosened her grip once more, allowing her to gasp for air. "Thank you for your cooperation," Ash said, seeing her evident relief. "I look forward to working with you in the near future." She was panicked again, but it wouldn't last. Ash drew away the knife, flipped it, and slammed the hilt to the side of Lyanna's head, knocking her out.

"L-Lyan. . . na," Ash heard the other woman come to. When she looked to her, her jaw was clearly broken as it hung limply from her head. She was dazed from the looks of her, likely from a concussion, but that would end soon as well.

Ash drew her pistol, and shot a round between Sarah's eyes. She fell into the creek, causing a stream of blood to form in the water. People of that village would've heard that, so Ash ran north to the ice wall with the woman over her shoulder.

This situation was a problem, but may also prove to be an opportunity. She had a source of information on her shoulder, and she had to bring it to the IMC. They'll certainly want to look at this place once she gets back to tell them of it.

The new algorithm for she made the Phase Drive should do.

* * *

"Marder," Blisk greeted when he entered the man's office. He didn't wait for permission to take a seat in front of the desk.

"Commander Blisk," Marder greeted back, and took his own seat. "I'm sorry to hear for what happened to your pilot." Yeah, sure he was. "As per our contract, you'll be receiving a sum of credits as reparation for the lost pilot."

Good, they were on the same page then. A real shame, though, Ash had been an effective pilot, it'd take a while to replace her with someone equally strong. Ah well, she always had a problem with new toys, and that's what did her in.

"That was never in question," Blisk replied with a nod. "I'll also be taking a pilot from your personal army to replace her." These ARES division bastards had their own 'guards', so to speak, a few noteworthy Titan pilots being some of them.

"No, you won't," Marder said matter-of-factly. "You will get what we agreed upon, and not a credit more. The only reason you're getting that much is because of your Pilot, Ash, was of great help and we documented several-"

"I'd rather take half the credits than listen to another of your long-winded lectures, Marder," Blisk interrupted. "We'll just agree the contract is enough, no need to talk me into submission, aye?" Marder frowned, but said nothing. They both knew their positions and the value of the other.

Money traded for protection, and it was a good trade for both of them. Especially when there was news of the 6-4 allying themselves with the Militia, and even Blisk had to admit they were a problematic group. Hence why he needed pilots like A-

Blisk's thoughts were interrupted by the PA system. " _Attention all personnel, Experimental Ronin Titan has returned, all personnel related to the Phase Drive test to their designated positions. Titan maintenance crews and MRVNs to the testing area._ " Well, that was unexpected.

Both Blisk and Marder stood, and walked out to reach where the initial test took place.

"Looks like I won't need to pay you those reparations," Marder said neutrally. "You'll still get paid if the Phasing was a success however, so you can look forward to that." Bastard knew he was looking forward to it.

It didn't matter, Kuben knew Marder never cared for money. He looked too far to the future to care about credits. Since he didn't mind, the Apex Predators would be more than happy to lighten his wallet.

The automatic doors of the testing area opened, and revealed the familiar Titan he saw previously, surrounded by MRVNs and engineers tending to it. However, there was also a few IMC soldiers there.

"Take the woman to the medical bay for treatment, and prepare her for interrogation later when she comes to. She'll be compliant, I'm sure of it," Blisk heard the familiar robotic, monotone voice. He then saw two soldiers drag an unconscious woman by the shoulders away.

"You're late," Blisk said as he looked to Ash's white mask.

"Blame the scientists here. They don't know how to build a proper Phase Drive and I had to fix it for them," she replied, which had him smirking.

Marder stepped forward. "Who's that woman?" he asked. "More importantly, where'd she come from?" That was also an important question. Last he heard, Ronin was a one seat Titan.

Ash didn't answer that one, but instead, she asked her own question. "How long would it take for you to replicate that very Phase Drive I used to have the same effect on different vehicles, and even a carrier?" What kind of question was that? She was planning something, clearly.

"Pilot, if we built it before, we can build it again, and more in a short while," Marder said, impatient. "Now tell me where that woman came from, that's an order." For once, Blisk agreed with Marder to cut the bullshit.

"A different world," was her answer. "Or I suppose it's better to say from a different dimension, but I can't confirm it."

Blisk blinked, then looked to the black box that was the Phase Drive being unloaded from the Titan. He could practically _feel_ how busy the next few weeks were going to be.

"You're saying you were teleported to another dimension in a world that held humans." Marder didn't sound annoyed, but rather curious. Bloody intellectuals and their diplomas.

She nodded. "I've sent the information I gathered to you and your division. You'll learn that what I found to be very interesting, and worth digging into. Though I will recommend this, replicate that Phase Drive, and prepare men, machines, and resources to make an outpost in deep snow."

Marder kept his lips in a thin line, not happy nor annoyed at the suggestion, and held his gaze to the simulacrum. He raised his wrist, and began pressing buttons on the computer device on it. It seemed he was skimming at images, and more than once raised his brows to a few of them.

Once he dropped his arm, he looked to Ash again. "Good work, Pilot. It seems we have new initiative added to our plans." He then looked the Ronin. "As a reward, I'll give you this Titan and its intended weaponry, do with it as you wish." He turned and walked away, speaking into his earpiece, and from what it sounded like, he was preparing a large group of people for a trip.

Blisk sighed. "Well, looks like we have work to do," he said almost tiredly, then punched her shoulder lightly. "Come on, you can tell me about it as we debrief you with the rest of the eggheads, aye?"

For a moment, he thought he heard her sigh, but that was certainly just a trick of the wind.

* * *

 **You have no idea how much I wanted a story like this to happen.**

 **Anybody here who can speak German willing to help me out for some lines for Richter? I'd like to not use Google Translate if I can, for accuracy's sake. Nothing big, just to translate the rare line he'd say in German.**

 **What Titan is your main? Papa Scorch is mine.**


	2. Plans And Precaution

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 **Any German speakers willing to help me out with the rare Richter line? I'd use Google Translate, but you know from someone who speaks it is far more accurate. Willing to help? PM me.**

 **Oh how often I fantasized for an amazing story where the modern or sci-fi gets mashed with medieval, but alas, it's a very rare thing to find. Oh well, I'll have to try to make mine the story I've been searching for.**

 **Warning, this chapter's a bit time-skip happy.**

* * *

 **This Is Not A Story Where A Titan Wins Against A Knight; But A Story Where We Show Tech As A Might!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Plans And Precaution**

Richter took in a deep breath of cold air. It was a strange sensation, to Phase here, but here he was, breathing in the frosted air of another world that may or may not be from another dimension. Marder explained the science behind it, but Richter didn't listen, he didn't need to.

He looked down to the gawking men he was sent here with as the first pathfinders, although that title may belong to Ash. "All logistical troops, begin clearing the zone, mark this as the first outpost, and prepare for the big delivery," he ordered. "Officers, listen to the foremen, and make a perimeter based on their calculations, no arguments. The Titans given the role are to help the logistics teams to clear and level the area, the rest with the soldiers to form a defensive perimeter." He placed his helmet back on, shut the hatch of his Atlas Titan, and picked up his autocannon. "Now, get to work."

The few dozen men there shouted their response, and scattered to fulfil their roles. Some wore armor and held their rifles, yet most wore utilitarian uniforms, made for carrying tools rather than weapons, but they still had their sidearms should anything happen.

Richter looked at the floor he was standing on before stepping off it, the large, metal, square plate that was used to hold the men and vehicles, the same that he himself and this group stood upon to come here. But more than that, it was a mark. A square mark with a terminal near the edge, but a mark none the less.

"Clear the area for the next arrival!" an officer shouted, causing some men to jump back into the vehicles that held supplies and leave the plate. The combination of Samsons and Gremlins moved quickly off the platform, for in a minute or so, the next group would arrive with more men and resources. Once they were off, three Titans came and removed the massive metal plate in preparation for the next one.

Off the side, he saw another Titan with a special saw cut down a tree in less than a second, and tossing it to a pile for it to be used later. There were a dozen Titans clearing out trees or rocks to level the area, and half a dozen Titans on standby waiting for their roles, their intended pilots listening to the foreman on how far the perimeter should expand in its first stage.

Pilots nodded and jumped into their Titans, then scattered to move with their group of IMC grunts. Richter nodded in approval at the speed his Apex Predators moved.

An odd sound happened, causing him to look at where the plate once laid upon. There was another Phase platform with more men in vehicles, along with resources, and Titans. Though this time they brought with them a Goblin dropship. He knew what this specific one was for.

"Clear the Phase zone!" the same officer from before shouted, snapping the dazed men from their teleportation stupor and having them scramble out of the vehicles they were in, and the drivers getting their vehicles off. Seconds later, the dropship's thrusters began to burn, lifting it, before it jumped into space to release its cargo.

It was a slower method to deploy a satellite, but it'll have to do for now. Besides, it was the first of several more to come, so they'll have to get used to having their network incomplete and questionable for a while before they get complete coverage.

Looking back to the pre-outpost construction, with only a few minutes and a few Titans, the logistics team already leveled a decent part of the area and cleared it out of trees and boulders, enough for a few men to mark where certain areas and buildings would be. That didn't include the subterranean part of the would-be base, though.

The strange sound again caused him to look again at the landing zone, and this time the group was made up of MRVNs and other units trained or made for construction, along with resources and machines to either drill or erect buildings.

All this made him wish for a battle to come soon.

"Any enemies I can fight near here?" he asked his AI. Construction and making a base was fine and all, but the real job of a pilot and his Titan was to _battle_. The better fighter stood over the weaker one. That was the life of a pilot.

"Negative, and the other Titans in the area detect no signs of hostiles," his Titan said, her female voice prominent inside the cockpit. "I was told by Commander Kuben Blisk to suggest you curb your bloodlust by patrolling." He snarled at the proposition. His skills were honed for a fight, not to walk around looking at trees!

Another weird sound, another group that came. Machinery, men, resources, more Titans, blah blah blah, all the same after the first two. Still, with unmuted boredom, he turned to see them anyway. . . Ah, they were the ones responsible for clearing out the area for the big delivery that'll come at the ending of stage one.

Good, they were nearing the next stage, though that one would take far longer than the first stage of the new initiative. It ought to be since it was the actual construction of the base. With the new MRVN's and construction drones, including more that'll be coming, it might take a week or two to finish building the walls a kilometer in diameter around the center, and then begins the base construction.

It shouldn't be long now, as already the army of Titans and lumberjacks were tearing out the forest by the hundreds, with the MRVNs rolling them out of the way for whatever use they might get out of them. All in all, they were halfway done with clearing the area before beginning stage two, but that still meant the big delivery was good to arrive.

"Richter," one of his officers called him through the radio. "These engineers say that we're good for the big one. I'll be sending a MRVN to Typhon to give them the word."

Richter grunted in approval at the speed. "Sehr gut. Send it, and make sure the area is clear when it arrives to avoid costly mistakes." The officer gave the affirmative before signing off.

Looking to the plate that _wasn't_ removed, he saw one of those tin men walk its way to the plate's terminal, input a code, and vanished off the face of the planet with a quick salute. He thought they might have a minute before the big delivery arrived.

"It's coming," Richter said to the radios of his allies. "Anyone who doesn't want to die, move to the tree line." In his Titan still, he ran to the edge of the clearing his troops made, and waited.

The big delivery was what they called it, mostly from the size of what's coming. There's much power to show in this land, according to the intel the IMC had. Swords, shields, arrows, and catapults being the only thing the denizens of this world had to fight them should it come to be, and the IMC had much more in store if such an occasion those weapons turned on them.

It almost made him laugh, but instead left him annoyed. There'd be no good fight in this land, no one worthy for a duel existed here. When the sound of Phasing happened, he knew there were also none worthy of a fight against this one.

The _IMS Malta_ popped into view, a massive vessel that would serve as the flagship for the initiative here. A beauty of a ship, and a hundred times as deadly with its weaponry. Its complement of fighters, bombers, soldiers, and ground vehicles would prove their own lethality should an invasion be needed, and it was about to take its position for the duration of its stay.

Richter was far enough to be safe, but the gale of air from the thrusters that hit forced his Titan to brace. It was enough to send soft snow flying at him, but the crew of it knew to be quick. The pseudo-storm lightened when the _Malta_ angled itself, and disappeared entirely with it jumped into orbit. He did not relax, however.

"Brace for the next one!" one of his officers shouted.

It was just as he said it, the _IMS Draconis_ Phased in front of him. While this one was much larger, it wasn't as tall as the _Malta_ , but it being a heavy transport ship allowed it to hold three times the supplies. It was accurate to say they won't be starving or lacking in materials anytime soon with this one around.

Same as before, a tidal wave of wind hit Richter's Titan, but he was prepared this time. Just like with the _Malta_ , the _Draconis_ angled itself then jumped into orbit before their very eyes.

With the _Malta_ , they had orbital support of every variety, and it would serve as the command center until the ground base was built. It would serve also as the base of all military operations until then.

The _Draconis_ held few weapons of its own, but its logistical use outperformed that of the _Malta_. Though it would be important for Marder's research teams as it was their base until a ground one was built.

All the firepower and utility was good, but Richter knew those ships' most important aspect, why they were important to him and the Apex Predators. As long as the _Malta_ or _Draconis_ were in orbit, Titanfall was available. That's what's most important, to send him a fifty-ton machine from the heavens!

Alas, what'd be the point if there was no one to fight? Richter sighed in disappointment. He turned to his small army and ordered through the speakers, "back to work, we have a base to build. Schnell!"

* * *

Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, had much on his plate already. The harvest had been slow as of late, rain turned to snow, and game had lessened for the hunters. It only meant on thing, winter was coming, and he had to prepare for it, more so since this was the longest summer in recent history, which meant an even longer winter.

So these letters from the Night's Watch were rather worrisome, although that was normal as wildlings tended to travel and raid more as the seasons turned. Though the contents of their most recent letters weren't what he expected.

"Has Lord-Commander Mormont gone senile?" he whispered to himself, but doubted it. It hadn't been long since he last saw him, so he couldn't have lost his mind just yet. Though these tales of odd sounds from the woods had been coming for weeks, and only as of late had the Watch said of large insects, or fairies on one account from Shadow Tower, flew around the woods, humming loudly as they flew just out of sight of the Rangers between the trees.

And this was after the reported sound all these letter started. The commander reported a massive howl that lasted for naught but a second before it disappeared, then a second howl started as quick as the first one before that disappeared as well. The Rangers searched the woods, but found nothing, though Joer said the sound might've come from deeper into the haunted forest or even beyond it.

He knew the old bear, he was no liar. Joer was an honorable man, the blood of the First Men and the North flowed through him as the Starks themselves. Less could be said about his son, however, but that was besides the case.

The commander asked to prepare Ned's bannermen as a precaution, and send men to the Wall for reinforcement, but that wasn't so easy. Ned respected the man greatly, but he couldn't order men to take the black against their will. That was a lifelong commitment, and not an easy one.

Still, he'll find some men from the dungeons and send them to Castle Black. The bear wouldn't like it, but it was all Ned could do. Joer might send a raven to Jon Arryn at King's Landing and ask for the same as of Ned, although knowing Mormont he likely already has. Still, Ned will send a letter imploring Jon to send the Watch their prisoners. That den of vipers would have scores of them, surely.

He dropped the letter on his desk, leaned back, wiped away the stress from his face and sighed. "Something's coming," he said to himself tiredly. He'd wager his honor that Commander Mormont sensed it as well, he just hoped they were wrong. He'd hear some more answers next time Benjen visits, Gods knew Joer would have asked him to try convincing Ned anyway.

"Ned, are you in here?" That was the unmistakable voice of his wife. "There you are," Cat said when she entered his solar, and walked over to him. She must've seen his exhaustion, as she decided to rub his shoulders. "I see the Night's Watch are asking for men again, but why is it troubling you so?"

Ned did find himself relax at the comfort and loving touch of her. "Winter is coming," he replied, and nodded for her to stop, which she did and he thanked her for it. "There's so much to be done, and these happenings going on passed the Wall is worrisome." Hopefully the Wall would keep whatever it was over there, but there was no guarantee. Was it the Others?

"You Northerners," Catelyn said without any heat. "Maybe one day you'll appreciate a day without worrying about winter every second of the day." He smirked at his wife's words. Regardless of what she said, she, a Tully, was as hardy as any Stark. She picked up one of the letters from Commander Mormont. "More men. Odd sightings and sounds. This has been going on for weeks, Ned. Perhaps you should just tell the old bear you sent as much men as you could. Gods know you did at the first letter."

Lord Stark sighed again. Did he really send them men? Thieves, murderers, and rapers, are those what constitute as men of the Watch? It was a noble thing to do, taking the black, but now it was a haven for criminals and the occasional naïve lordling. Jon, his. . . son, wanted to join them, but he's still a boy barely of thirteen. To experience so little yet to want to throw the possibilities away. . .

"I'll have Ser Rodrik search the dungeons once more for men to take the black. I'll even have Mikken and his boys forge some new swords and armor as well, and I'll send to House Forresters a request for some ironwood shields for the Watch." It's all he could do without demanding of his men to abandon their homes and families.

Cat kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, Ned, you honor-bound fool. Food is about to be served in the hall, and I would rather not keep our children waiting."

"I'll only be a minute," he said, earning a peck on the lips before his wife left the solar. For what felt like the thousandth time, he sighed. Perhaps he was worrying too much, but he couldn't help but sense that foreboding feeling. He tried to convince himself it was the harsh winter to come, but it didn't feel right.

Something's coming. He just hoped they were all prepared for it.

* * *

"You want us to begin stage three?" Slone asked. "This is too soon. The base hasn't been fully built yet, and you want us to begin activating harvesters we haven't built yet?" She herself was inside the comms room that had only recently finished construction, yet the captain of the _Malta_ said it was time to mine for ores.

" _Then build them_ ," the holographic projection of Captain Ghadir of the _IMS Malta_ said. " _General Marder has ordered us to begin stage three when our resources reached a certain point. We're not low on anything, but I believe it's to see if anything could be extracted and see if we can be self-sufficient. Regardless, orders are orders._ " Couldn't really against either of those points. Orders were indeed orders, and she was paid to act them out.

"And I wasn't told of this because. . ." The captain shrugged. "Right." Slone didn't appreciate sudden changes, not one bit. "We deployed scanner drones to check for mineral deposits, which wasn't damn easy with all that fucking snow, but found a few likely candidates. I hope you'd have your nodes ready when we beam them up." The captain scoffed. "Good. I'll contact you when we have a harvester ready to activate. Slone out." He signed off with a nod and a grunt.

Well then, time to order some MRVNs and a security detail to start building the damn machine to search the earth for something that may or may not be there. Though the drones managed to find some likely hot spots for precious metals, but with all the ice and snow, it wouldn't be a surprise to find nothing.

 _'Speaking of the ice and snow, why is it so bloody cold!?'_ she thought as she exited the comms room. She was still inside the unfinished command center that had a roof and heating, but being out there was a damn winter wonderland throughout the day and night. Her winter pilot gear allowed her protection from the cold, and she'd been thankful for that, but she'd still get the occasional chills.

She more than once passed a MRVN welding a wall, fixing electrical wiring, or installing plumbing, and all it had her think was how much longer it would take to turn this icy shithole into a functioning base. Though if rumors proved true, there'd be a second construction of a base somewhere on the planet.

"Slone," greeted a familiar voice. When she turned to see who, it was Richter. "New mission?" He's been here longer than her, and if she knew him, Richter was getting antsy for something other than watch MRVNs install insulation on a new barracks or other.

"We're moving to stage three." He gave her a quizzical look. "Sooner than planned, I know, but they're orders. So prepare a security detail, you're going out to protect MRVNs build a harvester outpost."

"Warum ich? Why me?" He didn't sound annoyed, so that's a good sign. He might be a mad, ear-collecting bastard, but he was a formidable pilot, one who didn't like watching the paint dry. So he might as well watch the paint from a different outpost.

Slone shrugged. "You can sit here and look at the MRVNs, or you can take a couple of Samsons, and go to a spot for a harvester. Who knows, you might even find a bunch of those wildling people we've been briefed on and fight them." That, and she really didn't want to be out in the cold just yet. Not with only three days to get accustomed to the damn place. She needed some more time.

The man grunted, and scratched his scruffy neck in thought at the prospect of a fight. The recon drones found a few small wildling encampments, as well as some Night's Watch patrols, but they were still too far to find the IMC base on foot in deep snow. Still, it was only a matter of time before first contact, and that can mean a battle.

It wouldn't be problem either way, but they weren't here to fight, only to find the source of that weird energy signature Ash found. Maybe Marder was curious about it, so when space was available for minerals and such, it'd instead store materials of this world for study. That sounded like something that scientist prick would do.

"I'll go," Richter said, snapping her away from her thoughts. "I'll gather the soldiers, you send me the map and details for the harvester points." Slone nodded. She could do that. "However, the light from the harvesters will act as a beacon for the nearby natives, so prepare for first contact." He turned and walked off, but she followed behind him.

Slone had thought about that, and that was why they were supposed to do this _after_ the fortifications have been built. Hell, the harvesters were part of stage two, three being activating them. But no, Marder wanted his energy intel, so they now have to push ahead of schedule and build them. Fucking scientists.

After some hallways and an elevator ride, the two pilots reached a gate to leave the command center. And just like before, Slone got that chill when that door opened. She quickly put her helmet back on, not that it stopped the odd chills now and again.

There's just something weird about this place.

Outside, the army of MRVNs were tirelessly either building that new hangar, another landing pad for their Goblins, or that barracks and garage for the soldiers and spectres. However, their most important role was completed, especially due to the location of the base, being the same spot Ash phased into for the first time. Northeast from the location called Castle Black, northwest from Eastwatch By The Sea, and, recently found by the drones, southwest of the wildling fortification of Hardhome. While normally worrisome for being surrounded, it wasn't from this place thanks to the base's fortifications.

A twenty meter high, hexagonal wall surrounded them with cannons jotting out of the corners, and myriad of other guns in between. No one was coming in, not if their cannons had anything to say about it.

They were protected with the black, titanium-alloy wall, so all they had to do was build the facilities. Though that part was soon to be in tandem with harvesting precious ores, slowing them down, though likely only a week until the first harvester was built.

"Prepare an outbound group," Richter said to some IMC officer through the radio, to which Slone tapped in to hear. "Thirty IMC men and three of our pilots and myself should do. We're going into stage three."

" _We're activating stage three? Isn't it too soon?_ " the officer asked puzzled, not that Slone could blame him. Richter explained the situation. " _Alright, I'll have wheels up in ten minutes with the men and resources._ " He signed off.

"You think we'll go to war with the natives here?" Slone asked as they were walking to a barracks. These knights or such were nothing to be afraid of, their sticks and stones wouldn't match the power of an R-201 carbine, and that was a standard issue firearm, while full plate was among the rank of knight. _'Knights? What a world we're in.'_ And dragons actually _existed_ in this place? Though Marder dismissed that as stories, and she probably should as well.

Richter shook his head. "A war would involve a fight. There would be no fight here, not when the people here are weak. If they go to meet us at the field against us, it would be a war that would last for only a minute. The victor would be clear at first Titanfall, if we even reach that far ahead." He spat to the side in disappointment.

She hummed at the thought. The IMC initiative here didn't involve a fight or a war, only protocol should things turn violent. Which was essentially 'Kill everyone in your way, but don't slow down the initiative', but in more legalese and bullshit. Regardless, Richter was right.

If these people wanted to put a wall of men in front of them, then they'll just smash through their flesh with titanium-alloy. There's nothing stopping the IMC from taking what they wanted, even if these people actively tried, then they'd just fly over them.

Or slaughter them. One or the other.

When they entered the barracks, it was a flurry of activity. IMC grunts were suiting up for the journey with Richter, some men and women strapping on their vests and webbing after they put in their thermal clothes, although there would be more to be put on afterwards.

"Richter." The officer he spoke with before came to them. Slone didn't know his name, nor did she bother to. "The men should be ready soon, and I'm having MRVNs load up the Samsons for the mission and should be ready in a minute. Did you select a location yet?"

Richter looked to Slone and nodded, so she went to the nearest computer terminal and brought up a map of the area north of that giant ice wall. Working with her helmet, she sent the harvester point map the terminal and superimposed it. She didn't need to look to know the two were beside her and looking at the screen.

"We've found a few promising points to mine," she said, and start pointing to each of the dots, which showed the details of what they'd most likely find. "Here we can extract iron, aluminum, and gold, but it's close to this house where one man and several women live in." She pointed to another, more north of that house. "This one has aluminum, copper, and some natural gas we can refine into something more." Then she pointed to a spot more south, closer to spot labeled 'Castle Black'. "This one though, this one's special." She smirked, and pressed on the dot.

Richter grunted in approval at the details that popped up. "Uranium and ilmenite. We found our first harvesting spot," he said with finality, and transferred the information to his helmet, and a data pad nearby. That one, the officer took for himself. "There is no 'maybe' anymore, there _will_ be first contact."

Both the officer and Slone nodded. Ilmenite was used for titanium production, and uranium for myriad of other reasons. Though it was relatively close to the Castle Black, only a hundred kilometers between it and the future outpost, it was too sweet a spot for ores to ignore.

The officer turned to see his troops equipped and ready. "Men, saddle up!" he ordered, earning a loud 'Yes sir!' before the thirty men and woman marched into the connecting garage through a side door. He turned to the two pilots. "What about the construction materials and MRVNs?"

Slone was the one who answered. "The _Malta_ will be sending Goblins with those, so just secure the point, and they'll drop those to you." The officer nodded before he walked off. Well, with the men ready, all that's left were the pilots, though she's sure Richter would handle that himself.

He walked outside back through the door they came in with and out to the snow. She got the chills again, and it bothered her more than it should. Again, something was just bizarre about this place, but she kept her mouth shut. Bizarre or not, this was a paycheck, a job, but did other people feel it, too? She could imagine Ash passively mock her to her face if she complained about something so 'irrational'.

Instead of thinking about it, she watched as eight Samson vehicles rolled out of the garage near them. Two attack Samsons with heavy turrets, four standard Samsons that held some supplies for the road or contingency in the beds of them, and two transport that held ten men each while the others held four or five. Above them, she saw four assault drones, they'd be the scouts to find a clear path, or even clear it themselves with its laser turret.

She was perhaps too distracted by the vehicles, so much so Slone didn't hear Richter call three Apex Predator pilots to them and explaining the situation. Maybe she ate something that held some of Kane's product before coming here. That might've been it.

Slone watched as Richter entered a vehicle, while the three others entered in different ones each. He nodded to her as a farewell, and she did the same. He closed the door closed behind him, and the vehicles drove off, each of their six wheels engineered to handle all terrain helping greatly in making way on snow.

It'll likely take two or three days of continuous driving to reach the point, and another week for the MRVNs and drones finish building the harvester and outpost. That means they have until then before Westeros knows they're here.

What that would entail Slone wasn't sure, but if it became violent, it'll get bloody.

Just not on their end.

* * *

Jaremy Rykker patrolled the top of the wall in the dead of night. He, a ranger, patrols the walls like some green sop the Watch gets for new recruits. This was a job given to those rapers sent to them, not him, but alas, he has to follow the command of Commander Mormont. He spat over the Wall in disdain.

More than once he almost slipped as he kept himself walking. He'd have to tell the Builders to spread more pebbles. _'How fortunate for the next one to patrol, but not me,'_ he thought with irritation. With his luck, they'd send him to do it.

Gods, he swore he'd haunt the old bear till his dying days if he fell off.

The Watch recently acquired some more rapers and thieves from Winterfell and even King's Landing, so there should be plenty of summer-born bastards to do this, but no, they needed training. Training! He was here freezing his cock off because those bastards don't know how to hold a sword or blow a horn!

He'd stomp on the ice, but thought better of it lest he slip off the Wall. The fact he kept walking to make sure his blood circulates and not freeze didn't help the matter. Though he could thank the seven for not having the heavens piss on him with rain and snow.

In fact, the day itself was clear, fog was thin or nonexistent, and he was thankful that extended to the night as well. Peering out beyond the Wall, there were trees, just as there were they day before and before that. Perhaps he should report two missing trees in his report to take the piss out of the commander.

Jaremy laughed a little at his own joke. That was one way to make these patrols more permanent, so he'd best avoid that.

He took a slow, deep breath. The frosty air stung when breathed in too quickly, he learned that on his first day rather fast. In fact, here comes one of those new recruits running now, the damn fool.

"Slow down, you stupid-" Rykker didn't finish sentence as the bloody fool grabbed onto his arms, panting heavily from his run. "Get off!" He pushed him away, dropping him on his arse.

"Th-Th-The-!" Was it so cold that he needed to stutter? Fucking summer-born. Too weak. Ser Alliser would enjoy hardening this bastard.

Jaremy slapped him across the face. "Spit it out or go back to your post," he shouted angrily. The slap seemed to have worked, though his panic was still far too evident in his eyes.

The boy swallowed hard. "The ffff-" He swallowed again. "The forest! Th-There's-" The boy stopped talking after that, and just snapped his head to look at what it was that gotten him so craven. His face formed back to what it was, jumped up, and ran passed Jaremy.

"What was that fool spouting?" Rykker asked himself, and turned to look at the forest, but there was nothing. Only until he looked into the distance did he spot it. "By the seven!" he exclaimed, and ran to the lift, caution be damned!

He reached the lift quick enough, and saw the boy from before standing there quivering, if from the cold or fear, he wasn't certain. Thought he couldn't entirely blame him.

That thin beam of blue light could not be natural!

* * *

 **Uh oh, Stage 3 has commenced, and the harvesters light brought forth some attention! What comes next!? Find out in the next chapter, The Wolf And The Iron Giant!**

 **I'm sure you can tell this was me giving you time of what's happening in the GoT world, and also trying to give the story a military feel, kind of like an RTS.**

 **Reviews are appreciated, it's how we know we writers got the desired effect.** **Also, German-speakers, please help me with the rare German Richter line!**


	3. The Wolf And The Iron Giant

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 **Shorter chapter than usual this time. I kept trying to extend it, but that was for the next chapter, it just didn't work out here.**

 **German-speakers, I require assistance! With that request made, let's get to the story! And more exclamation marks! Wow! Another one!**

* * *

 **All Men Must Die, That Is The World's Decree; But Pilots Have Protocol Three!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Wolf And The Iron Giant**

Eddard Stark rode to the gates of Castle Black. A company of twenty of his best men rode with him, and that included his sons Robb and Jon, along with his ward, Theon Greyjoy. Jon was more eager to see men of the Watch, though Ned knew it wouldn't live up to his expectations.

"Surely all this about a pillar of light is a falsehood," Robb commented. "Could the Lord-Commander be trying to get your attention to his affairs, father?"

Ned shook his head. "Not Joer Mormont, the man is as honor-bound as any Northman, if not more so." It was the truth, the Mormonts were always loyal bannermen of House Stark. Not even taking the black would let Joer lose himself.

The gate opened for him and his company, and the first person he saw when riding in was the Lord-Commander Joer Mormont himself. Ned got off his horse and gave it away to one of the stable boys.

"Lord Eddard," Mormont greeted and moved to shake his hand. It may have been months since he last saw the man in person, but he looked no different.

"Lord-Commander Mormont," Ned greeted back, and took the hand. "It's good to see you in good health." And he meant it, more so because it didn't seem he was senile, not yet. To the side he saw his sons come forward along with his master-at-arms. "My sons Robb and Jon, and my master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel."

The two boys said their greetings, and Rodrik bowed his head in respect of the old bear. To which Joer grunted and nodded to the three of them. Good, the formalities were done.

"Lord Stark, if you'd do me the honor and follow me to the top of the Wall, your boys can come if they so wish." Straight to the point? Good, Ned didn't want to step around the issue more than needed, so he nodded and gestured the old bear to lead the way.

As he, the boys, and Ser Rodrik walked across the yard, he saw an old face he hadn't seen in a long while. Alliser Thorne was training a few boys, but took the time to sneer at Lord Stark. Perhaps it was expected since it was he and Robert's rebellion that put Ser Thorne here.

The man turned away to focus more on training his new men of the Watch. It was better to ignore each other for the time being, Ned supposed. Especially with more important things that needed to be dealt with.

Looking to his sons, Robb was looking around unimpressed at what was supposed to be the prestigious order of the Night's Watch. It was known that the Watch became just a place where criminals were sent to avoid execution, so it was no wonder it became like this, though seeing it in person meant more than just knowing.

Jon, however, was taking it far worse than his half-brother. Everywhere he looked, Jon wanted to forget he saw it. The towers were in disrepair, the castle's turrets were in shambled, but the worst that must've ruined the great brotherhood for Jon were the people. None in sight looked like the gallant knights they're used to be known for, instead they were cold and cruel people, hardened by their experience here. It must be the one that hurt him the most. Would he still wish to join after seeing this? Ned didn't know.

When they neared the famous lift, Ned saw a familiar face at the top step, one he was happy to see. "Ned," Benjen greeted as he walked down and engulfed him in a hug, one he happily returned. "Good to see you, brother," he said when they separated.

"Uncle," Robb greeted happily, who was also enveloped in a hug along with Jon. It wasn't lost on Ned how almost no other black brother would be able to meet their family, but Benjen was First Ranger, and his home. . . _former_ home wasn't so far away, and also happened to be the seat of power in the North, one regularly consulted with by the Watch.

"Glad to see you, boys," Ben said as he let go of the two boys, then looked to Lord-Commander Mormont, who shook his head. He sighed and looked to his nephews. "We'll talk more later." He patted them on the shoulders and walked to Mormont's side.

Now that he thought about it, Benjen was First Ranger, so clearly the Watch would organize a ranging to scout the light, but why was he here instead of out there? Was it already done? It's been five days since he received the raven, so surely a ranging was done.

"Lord Mormont," Ned called as they walked into the lift along with his sons, ward, and Ser Cassel. "This light you speak of, what more can you tell me of it?"

The commander shook his head. "I believe it's best I show you, fortunately the mist isn't heavy, so you should be able to see it." The lift jittered before it began rising to the top of the Wall.

"You haven't sent rangers to acquire more information?" Joer shook his head, causing Eddard to frown. Was it so far into the distance that a ranging was impossible? That couldn't be, not if they could see it. "Lord-Commander, what are you planning?"

Again, Mormont shook his head. "I'm not some summer lord from King's Landing, prancing around with words to get what I want. No, what I do, I do to protect our people." He sighed. "Forgive me, my lord, but I thought it was best for you to see it yourself. And maybe. . . " He trailed off near the end.

The cage stuttered to a stop at the top of the Wall. It was the first time he was here, and he didn't think it would be this much colder over two-hundred meters up in the air. He was already wearing thick furs, but clearly it wasn't enough as the cold still bit through.

"Gods, it's freezing," Robb complained, wrapping himself with his thick cloak. Ned was amused at his son's harmless ordeal, but that left as soon as he heard him whisper to Jon, "you still wish to join?"

Jon stayed quiet, but Ned saw him frown in disappointment. Perhaps it was better this way, to see what he was getting into before throwing away his whole life. It ached his heart that Jon saw the true nature of the Watch, but it was for the best. It had to be.

"My lords, over here," Commander Mormont said near the edge of the Wall. "Look out there, and you'll see it." Ned walked closer to the edge, looking to the fabled haunted forest, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Higher," Mormont said, noticing his clearly lower line of sight.

Following up, he saw more trees within the cold, the hills and mountains that reached beyond. . . but then he saw it. It churned his innards to see it, but he knew coming to the Wall wouldn't be without seeing something like this.

"By the Gods old and new," he heard Ser Rodrik whisper, and he agreed with that statement entirely. "That light. . ."

It was indeed a thin pillar of blue light, one that had him just know it was unnatural. He could almost see it pulsating, but it was too far to truly see it. As Mormont said, the mist wasn't so thick today, he could see it hit the clouds above, though his instincts said it was going past it and going even higher.

Why here, why now? But more importantly, who? Wildlings? Unlikely, though for all Ned knew it could've been them. Others? They'd been dead for thousands of years if they even existed at all, but what if they returned? They needed to be ready for more than just winter if that was the case. Children of the forest?

Eddard's mind went into more and more arcane explanations, but there could only be one way to get an answer, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Joer knew he'd come to the same conclusion.

"I see your point, Joer," Eddard said, formalities be damned. "You want me to send men to scout the source, more than just black brothers, but men who would convince their lords of this new development." And who more could command men of the North to this? "And you want me to go there with them."

The old bear didn't answer, but instead looked to Lord Stark with almost pleading eyes. Ned knew why, after so many letters asking for more men, of course he'd know why, especially when that light signified something was out there. Something he and Joer dreaded, something that needed the men of the North and Robert to prepare for without a doubt from the messenger.

"I'll go," he said finally, and turned to go back to the lift.

"You can't, my lord!" exclaimed Rodrik. "North of the Wall is filled with wildlings and their kind, a few dozen men can't protect you if we're attacked be an entire host or an encampment of a thousand." Robb and Jon nodded to that.

He was right, but peering out over the distance to where the blue light seemed to emanate from, he couldn't really see it as it was behind the trees and hills, but he could still see it. Ned looked to Joer and asked, "can you say you can protect me, Lord-Commander?"

"The distance isn't so great that there'd be any large camps between us that we wouldn't know about, so I doubt we'll be facing a host of a thousand or any of the like," Joer said, his experience in Castle Black showing. "And that light must've attracted every wildling in viewing distance. They're either dead, or at the source." That last bit irked both lords. "However, a scouting party will be ahead of us. Should anything be amiss, we'll know and retreat immediately should the threat prove too great."

Ned nodded, the old bear's words giving him small amount of comfort, then looked to Cassel. "It's a sound plan, but the threat on your life, milord, is still very real once out there. A single one of our men could handle ten wildlings, but it would only take a single stray arrow to kill you."

He should be happy to have such men to give up their lives for him, but Ned instead felt overwhelmed. Why should he expect these men to die for him, if he wouldn't even risk his life for theirs? He had to go. "Thank you, Ser Rodrik, but I must do this, you know I do if I were to gather the banners of both the North and South." Robert would heed his words, surely.

"Aye, my lord," Rodrik conceited with clear frustration and worry. "I'll send a raven to Last Hearth for some added men, not too great as not to slow us down. Gods know I wouldn't want you stay out there longer than you have to. If it pleases you, my lord, let's leave when they arrive."

Eddard nodded and looked to his sons and ward. "You three are to stay here when I'm gone." They're young and couldn't put their lives at risk. Not that it would be enough, so as expected, they protested.

Robb stepped forward. "Father! I should also-"

"I will not be hearing of this," Ned interrupted. If there was one place he couldn't bring any of his children, it would be north of the Wall. "You are too young, and should anything happen to me, I'll need you to lead in my place." He looked to Theon and Jon. "I'll need you two here as well, and I hope you three support each other should hard times come."

Jon's skill with a sword was getting better and better, Ned noticed. He wished he could bring Theon with him, the boy was skilled with a bow in a way few could, but was still too young, too inexperienced.

"Lord Stark, I'm of thirteen years of age, almost a man grown," Jon spoke up. "It may help in my decision, so let me join you." Help make his decision? If Jon wanted to take the black, perhaps it was a good idea to bring him along, but not this time, not when he was venturing deep into an unknown.

"No, Jon, not this time." He made to protest, but Ned put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You stay here, see the people, and see their reason for fighting. If all things go well and I can go north of the Wall again, I'll take you with me." It did not ease his frustration, but Jon nodded.

If Ned was honest with himself, he was afraid of going out there to the source of that light even with a hundred men, but this needed to be done, so that his bannermen would answer the call without doubt. He would tell his liege lords that he first hand saw what it was, and it needed to be dealt with!

He prayed no sword would need to be drawn, but the feeling in his gut told him a sword wouldn't be enough.

* * *

Eddard found out very quickly that north of the Wall was indeed much colder than the area surrounding Winterfell. So perhaps he poked the small campfire a little too eagerly than usual in hopes for a larger flame. _'It's midday, yet it's still cold enough to freeze blood.'_

One of his host's horses died from the biting cold, seemingly from being unaccustomed or trained to handle it. The rider, one of the men sent from House Umber, grieved for his fallen mount, and was given a spare from Night's Watch. All in all, they were fifty men. Ten sent from Last Hearth, seventeen from his original host when he came to Castle Black, and the remaining were men of the Watch.

He looked to the pillar of light, and it was undoubtable they were getting closer. Even after a night's travel, it was still ways away, but he could just barely see hints of the licks of blue flame around the center of it, like wavy hairs it reached outwards before disappearing.

An old man sat beside him next to the fire. "I'll admit, my lord, very few of you complain about the cold, less than I've come to expect," the voice belonging to Joer Mormont said. "That poor boy would need a new horse when he's back home, though. I did warn him that his horse wasn't fit for the cold, but he argued that it was the horse he grew up riding and couldn't ride another should he help it. Well, he's now riding on one of the supply horses, and another when he returns home."

Ned remembered. He did feel sorry for the lad, but one did not simply ignore Lord-Commander Joer Mormont if he advised something. "I suppose one should not come here and not expect to lose something if you weren't prepared otherwise," he commented.

Joer grunted in agreement. "Usually that would be a few fingers from frostbite, or often the life of you or your black brother. The men at Castle Black always expect to lose something should they travel north, Thorne and I drilled that lesson right into their heads. Though not even all the preparation in the world would be enough in some cases."

Nodding, Ned stood back up. "Thank-

Whatever he was going to say, Ned quieted when he heard an odd popping sound in the distance. There were feint sounds of screams as well, one of pain and dying, a sound he was all too familiar with. The sounds of pops continued and rattled the air, followed by more sounds of screams.

"Joer."

"I hear it," he said grimly. "Men, tie the horses, we're moving on foot!" he ordered, which had the men scrambling for their weapons. "Benjen, take point, take Daire and Rykker with you." A knot formed in Ned's chest when he heard that his own brother was moving ahead first.

Ben himself looked to him, and seemed to have noticed as he gave a confident smile and a nod that said 'I can do this'. Perhaps on another day it would've helped, but not this time, not when there's an unnatural pillar of light not too far from them.

An old arm patted his back. "I wouldn't send Benjen if I didn't think he had what it takes. He's a good lad, and a damn good First Ranger," Commander Mormont assured him. "He'll only be moving a few yards ahead of us, we won't be far should he need our help." His words helped, so Ned nodded in thanks.

Ben and the two went ahead of them where the sounds started, as the near fifty men shaped themselves in a sort of crescent as they moved deeper in the woods. If there was hostility ahead of them, then the men would do a small pincer maneuver and converge on any wildlings or the like.

Ser Cassel implored him to be in the middle, surrounded by his own men who would throw their bodies in front of any arrow that could come at him. Though that may no longer be the case as the popping sounds had just stopped. No more were there screams of agony, or odd sounds of thunder.

That made things even more worrisome.

Was it a battle that was won? By whom and with what? With the sounds they'd at least know that something was going on, but now? Nothing. Silence of this frigid environment, but it was that very silence that made him keep a hand on Ice, his Valyrian greatsword passed down the Stark family.

Up ahead, he saw his brother leaning over a corpse. It took him a second to realize it wasn't any of their men. Neither Stark, Umber nor Night's Watch wore white furs. A wilding, he realized, one who dragged himself away from the direction they were heading, as told by the blood trail. Though it was pointless now as the man bled to death before he could find sanctuary of whatever did this to him.

He and Joer walked ahead to the corpse, keeping their voices and bodies low as not to be heard or seen. "What did you find?" Joer asked Ben.

His brother turned over the body to reveal his chest and face. He whispered as quietly, "body's still warm, but no mark of blade nor arrow." He fiddled around a blood stain and showed the tear in a fur. "There's a hole here that went straight through the chest, but there's no sign of an arrow." Perhaps it was picked up, he wanted say, but with a body this warm and blood still wet, that was unlikely.

Mormont nodded. "Keep moving forward, but stay close," he whispered, hand on his own blade. Longclaw, if Ned remembered correctly.

The closer they moved ahead, the more prominent a voice was. It sounded like nothing but a mumble, but it grew clearer and clearer. It was like. . .

Benjen raised his first and everyone froze, staying low in the white underbrush. Ned would've thought there wasn't a single sound, but there was at least one. He heard the sound of slicing, then a grunt ahead of him. . . There!

A person ahead of them stood up, not any of his men, none he was with wore that thick of fur around chest and neck. Certainly none were holding an ear to the air with an inspecting gaze.

"Tch, enttäuschend," the man said with displeasure as he threw the severed ear away with a disgusted grunt. Ned didn't understand what he had just said, but it didn't take much to understand he didn't like whatever it was he was seeing.

Ned moved closer to Benjen to see, and he did so quietly with success. At closer inspection, he noticed the man's wear was unlike anything he was familiar with. It looked like a combination made of cloth and leather with straps nearly everywhere, but there were parts on it looked to be of steel. But besides that thick mane of fur around his neck, the other feature was some metal arm sprouting from his back and over his shoulder.

On his back waist was some kind of metallic pack with protrusions, and held on his belt was an oddly designed helmet of sorts, more reminiscent of a bowl. The only tell of a blade was the knife he returned to the sheath on the side of his shin. He shouldn't be a threat, but Ned still didn't feel at ease.

The man stood and took in a deep breath of air, then took the helmet that was clasped to his belt and donned it. "This is Richter," the man said to seemingly no one. "The runaway hostiles had been taken care of, returning to-" He stopped midway through his sentence. The head turned to Ned's direction, and he knew that this Richter knew they were there.

How, though, was another question, as the odd helmet had a cross-shaped visor that had orange-tinted glass that couldn't have been easy to peer through. If he didn't know any better, Ned would've said that it was glowing, but that couldn't be right.

"Which one are you?" the man asked, receiving no answer, so he stood facing them, hand on something on his belt. He knew they were there, he had to. "I'm not patient enough for this. Come out, or I make you come out."

Ned looked to Mormont, who like himself didn't like how this was developing, but they had fifty well-trained men including himself against this one man. But why did it do nothing to ease his mind? When Joer nodded to Benjen, Ned felt worse tenfold.

"Greetings," his brother said, hands shown in a placating manner. "I mean you no harm, I was just passing through." He walked out of the brushes and into clear view.

The man looked Ben up and down. "You are of this Night's Watch, the organization that these people call Crows," Richter said, but his voice was odd, changed and vibrating. It wasn't like that before he put on the helmet.

"I am, yes." Ben nodded. "And who might you be? You don't seem to be a wildling."

The man grunted. "What I am is none of your business, and don't pretend you're alone." Benjen stiffened, but didn't let down his hands to show himself unarmed. "Yes, I know you have fifty men behind you, so why don't they come out as well."

Frowning, Ben took a few seconds of deliberation before whistling to the twenty black brothers behind him, making them step out. Bows were nocked and aimed towards Richter, and the swordsmen had their hands on their swords should anything happen.

Richter just shook his head. "Regardless of the fraction of the men you had step out, I will tell you all what I told these wildlings," the man half-shouted with a nod to the several, bleeding corpses in the vicinity. He pointed towards the pillar of light. "That light you see over there, you will never reach it, so turn around and don't come back. Let's see if your choice was better than theirs." He kicked a wildling corpse for good measure.

The way he said it so confidently, so uncaring of twenty or so men in front of him, Ned couldn't pin down whether it was arrogance, confidence, or a type of bluff, especially when he seemed to know their actual number.

"Let's just kill him and move on. We've wasted enough time as is," said one of the bowmen impatiently. "Just give the word, and I'll launch an arrow right through his skull." He pulled the bowstring and aimed the steel-tipped arrow at the man.

"These wildlings had similar answers, and killing them was as boring as it was fast." Richter turned to Ben. "You people are too weak to give us trouble, fighting you would be more hassle than it's worth. Leave while you still can." That confidence again, but a word stood out.

He said 'us', and it meant only one thing, one that had Ned more aware of surroundings than before.

A strange humming sound was heard, and was slowly getting louder, like a flock of birds flapping at once. It wasn't something only he heard, as the men around him began looking around warily for the source.

Richter looked to the air behind him and said, "I suppose they sent me back up." He grunted. "Was auch immer. They'll make short work of you and less trouble for me." The fact that it was getting louder and his voice was filled with disinterest made Eddard's innards reel.

Then he saw it.

No, _them_! Dozens of them!

The men scrambled to shouts and moved out of the shrubbery, drawing swords and bowstrings aimed towards the skies as several odd creatures flew into sight. Silver in color, size of a small child, and that was all Ned could describe it as.

One of the bowmen loosed an arrow, but caused no effect outside of pushing it back slightly when the arrow bounced off the creature with a metallic _ding_ sound,. . . They weren't creatures, they were machinations made of metal.

Others followed suit, loosing arrows that seemingly did nothing to damage them, and he knew that it was only a matter time before one of them fought back, and he was right. A whine filled the air, and the pipe on one of them glowed brighter and brighter.

What came out of it wasn't something he could easily describe. One moment it was glowing like hot steel, the next it let out a screech and orange light. The very light hit one of the Watch's men, and that was when Ned smelled burned flesh.

The men watched as the boy no older than sixteen dropped to his knees with a hole in his chest. He tried to cover the hole with his hands as if to stop whatever it was from happening, but it did nothing, and the boy slumped forward and unto the snow.

Whines filled the air once more, but it wasn't from just one source this time. Eddard had to do something, as some of the men were already running to avoid them, but many, including Mormont and Benjen, were still there with swords in hand, and others were on their knees praying to their Gods.

Things weren't in their favor. He had to do something!

"Stop!" he shouted and marched forward, ignoring his guard's calls. Now in front of the group, he spread his arms wide in front of Richter. "Enough, we'll leave! You have my word on that as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Not Benjen, please, not him.

The whine became louder, ready to spit out its spear of burning light. Ned closed eyes, waiting for the smell of burning flesh once more, but this time his own. He heard his men and that of Ben calling out as they came running to him on the hard, snowy ground.

One he knew he'd fall onto very soon.

But it didn't come.

He opened his eyes, and saw those bright lights on those pipes extinguished. The only thing he heard was that vibrating voice say, "you're very fortunate we want something from you."

* * *

 **German-speakers, help me! Richter needs you!**

 **I'm really sad that such an amazing game like Titanfall 2 made by amazing people didn't get the popularity it well deserves. Ah well, one thing's for sure, I'll be getting every Respawn game I can get my hands on. They're games made by gamers!**

 **Please tell me one of you caught the Boromir reference. Ah well, until next time!**


	4. Guest Rights And Protocol

.

 **Welp, Respawn got bought by EA. Honestly, regardless of everyone's justifiable pessimism, I'm wishing for the best. I hope they have the same freedoms as when they made Titanfall 2, and as long as they have that, they'll be good. I love Respawn, and I hope that whatever advantages they get from this deal, they use it to take the gaming world by storm on** _ **their own**_ **terms.**

 **I'd like to thank** **FamousFox89 aka the black Crow** **for his help in the German translation, you beautiful human being!**

* * *

 **Tones, Legions, And Ions, All Titans That Are Full Of Power; If The IMC Came In Full Force, Westeros Is Theirs Within The Hour!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Guest Rights And Protocol**

Richter wasn't happy, he regularly wasn't, but this was one of those special moments. He watched as the men in front of him picked up their lord or other from the snow, moving him behind some wall of men with wooden shields. Not much good it would do against the dozens of plasma drones around him.

When they tried to retreat, some of the drones flew over them and cut them off. "You're not allowed to leave just yet," Richter said, the drones too high for a sword to reach, but just close enough to show the threat. Likely their hopes of using arrows dead in the water after what happened with that man of theirs.

Two men with swords drawn and orange, wooden shields rushed him, shouting 'Last Hearth!' as they drew closer. Fat good that did.

Richter drew his Wingman and aimed at their heads. He clicked his tongue in displeasure and aimed lower, shooting a round through their shields and into each of their legs, causing them to stumble and throw away their shields in favor of clutching their bleeding thighs in agony.

"Nervensäge. Watch yourselves, I've already shown too much mercy. Tempt me again, and I'll kill you," Richter warned. Make contact with a lord, they said. Have access to their libraries, they said. Damn those scientists, and damn Marder for ever agreeing to it.

They growled and sneered, raising their blades into a more threatening pose, which didn't fit well with the pained wailing of the two injured in front of him. He'd like nothing more than ending it, but Marder and Blisk wouldn't like it. Hell, the one who was killed from a plasma drone was likely the threshold of who he could kill.

"Lord of Winterfell, we want something of you, so don't stray too far. Besides, I doubt you can outrun light itself," Richter said, gesturing to the drones that shot that boy. He activated his comms to the nearby outpost. "Sargent, bring in two Samsons and a medic. I've made contact with a lord." Not the most peaceful, but certainly better than the wildlings that tried raiding the harvester outpost.

The dozen corpses around were the ones who ran away from the outpost's guns, so Richter and a couple of squads hunted them down on his order to see their fighting style. Which was to say, ridiculously poor. Hell, he regretted he was stayed collecting ears while the soldiers he was with went back.

There was a bit of a scuffle as the lord moved in front of the group, some old man on his side with a two-handed bastard sword in hand implored the lord to get back. Oh good, negotiations. Na herrlich. . .

The lord eyed the drones warily, then back to him, though Richter could bet he didn't know where to look on his eyeless visor. "Move the two injured men back," the lord ordered, making four men garbed in in chainmail and deep orange, wooden shields move forward for their comrades.

Idiots, all of them.

Richter shot the snowy ground in front of them three times, drawing a line just before the four crossed it, some even stumbling from the upshot of snow as the bullet hit. "The injured stay where they are, in my line of sight," he said, and made a motion to keep the silvery Wingman in full view of these people.

They likely didn't know what it does, but Richter would bet they at least understood the danger it posed. Especially since the lord eyed it as warily as the drones.

"Who are you?" the lord asked. "And what is your relation with that pillar of light?" Did he finally make a connection? Richter hoped so, it would make things easier.

"My name is Richter, and that's all you need to know about me," he said, then shrugged. "As for that light, it was my men who built it." Mostly tin men built it, but he didn't even want to start explaining about those.

The lord only looked more disturbed at the information. "You said you wanted something from me, what would that be?" Richter can imagine his mind going into odd places, along the lines of something pointless as a castle, but no, it wasn't. Even still, it wasn't _him_ who wanted something, it was those damn scientists. He was only hired to help them get it.

"We want unrestricted access to your libraries for study," Richter replied. "As a lord, the IMC hopes that you comply." He sounded so ridiculous, but it was the routine he was ordered to do should he meet someone of nobility. Oddly enough, not here, but when the IMC extended south of the ice wall.

Rumblings were heard, as if loud growls of beasts that drew closer. Of course, they were the hefty Samsons he ordered, but for all these people knew, it was the coming of some dangerous beast, which was true if they didn't watch their steps.

The Westerosi people exclaimed as a large six-wheeler literally broke through the trees. They cursed and swore in panic, even raised the swords and bows towards it. Though the bravado didn't hide their evident fear when the first one burst through with its blaring lights, and certainly when the second came from the side of it.

The drivers' doors opened on each, stepping out were standard IMC grunts in their white uniforms. They both had their issued R-97 submachine gun, and both were aimed at the natives.

"Stop, die Waffen runter! Guns down!" Richter barked. Last thing he wanted was some chiding from Marder or Blisk about abandoning procedure and accidentally killing a noble. The two soldiers lowered their weapons, but didn't loosen their stance. That was better. "Where's the corpsman?"

One of the two nodded, and banged on the Samson a few times, having another IMC soldier open the rear door and step out with her CAR in hand. Richter waved the medic over to his side, and she obliged, but still wary of the Westerosi and kept her gun ready. At least IMC's choice for mercenary grunts was decent.

Turning to the group, Richter said, "as a gesture of good will, the medic will heal your two injured men. The IMC hopes you understand that we mean no harm." Damn Marder and his new protocols. In an instance he was put in a situation where a Westerosi was injured, with a presence of a lord, then he was to provide medical assistance to keep the relation civil and cooperative.

The corpse of one of their men notwithstanding, but fortunately there was a protocol for that as well. Slone dubbed it the 'not my fault' protocol. Which happened to be somewhat true in this case.

"Who are you people?" the lord asked warily, still eyeing the bulky vehicles and drones. "How are you able to do all these things?"

"We'll answer your questions." Most of them as long as he was allowed to, and some half-truths to go along with it. "But first is whether you allow my med. . . _healer_ to help your men right here and now." A shot to the thigh wasn't a lethal wound, but disease was a real threat for these people, and corpses weren't good for diplomacy. . . well, _more_ corpses.

As for the two men on the ground, they were surprisingly resilient. They're still on the snow gripping their bleeding injury, but no longer crying in pain. They tried crawling back to their group, but three bullets that drew the line stopped both groups from moving.

The lord eyed him warily. "You already killed one of our men, and you clearly have the ability to kill us all. Even though your request is to help, do I have the choice to refuse?"

"No, you don't, not when you clearly want them alive," Richter answered truthfully. Protocols have been made, and he'd been paid to follow them. He looked to the medic and gestured to the two injured men. "Dann flicken Sie die Idioten mal wieder zusammen. You know what to do, follow protocol."

She nodded, and slung her CAR to her back and instead brought out her medical kit. Kneeling by the two men who were on their backs, she said, "I'll be dealing with your wounds, so don't move your legs." The two sneered, but she ignored them as she drew scissors and cut away the bloody pants leg of the first man. She knew she was covered by the drones and a formidable pilot, Richter made sure with the gesture of audibly cocking his Wingman.

The healthy Westerosi men still had their swords in hand, and Richter still had his drones fly close, so the air was thick with tension. The injured man grunted as the corpsman started suturing the injury, which, of course, had the Westerosi knights or whatever flinch and just made the situation even tenser.

After wrapping gauze on the first one, the corpsman turned to the next and repeated the process. The usual, cutting open the pants leg, finding the exit wound, then began work to clean and sterilize the wound before stitching it shut. Standard gunshot injury procedure.

"Diagnosis, Doc," Richter demanded. It may have been a few minutes, but it was filled with tension. So maybe some good news would help move things.

She nodded as she put her supplies back into her pack. "Bullet went straight through," she said. "It didn't hit the bone on either of them, so there's no fragmentation. They'll be in pain for the next few days, but otherwise fine." Essentially, the two would live to fight another day, which might come to be if things turned violent.

Richter nodded in approval and gestured for the medic to get back to the safety of the Samsons. Good, protocol was followed, so neither Blisk nor Marder would bother him about it. Though there's still plenty of room to do so.

"Lord of Winterfell, with your men tended to, what do you intend to do?" Richter asked, bringing the attention back to the matter at hand. "If you decide to fight, I believe we both know how that would end." The drones' low hum emphasized his point.

The men looked concerned, likely they understood the reality of the situation. They may have double the numbers, but the drones outgunned them in ways that it didn't matter anymore. In conventional warfare if they had rifles there would be no argument, they'd have won, but in this case. . .

"I would choose to return back," he said, but with a healthy amount of skepticism. "But I feel as though I don't have the real right to choose." He's completely right, in a sense.

Richter spread his arms wide. "You have two choices, Lord of Winterfell." He gestured to one side. "You and a few of your men can come with us to our outpost if you wish to continue, but under supervision. You'll be safe and free to return home later on, I guarantee that." Wasn't his choice, it was protocol. Then he gestured to the other hand, the one with the Wingman. "Or you can turn back and go home, we will not chase." That part brought a sense of comfort to the lord, which made the second part more interesting. "However, you must take an ambassador from the IMC with you if you choose that option." And that part was non-negotiable.

"A trap, all of it," Richter heard one whisper to the lord. "They want to kill us while unawares." The thought of it had him scoff, and it looked like the lord believed it even less.

The eldest of the group scowled. "They clearly would've killed already, foolish boy," he whispered annoyed. "What they want is not some corpses, it's something else, one I fear we cannot pay without consequence." If they had the odd energy source that's coating the land, then yes, they did want something more, but for now some breadcrumbs towards it would be fine.

"You're right in saying we want more," Richter barked, starling the whispering duo. "The real question is whether or not you'll cooperate." Protocol dictates they cooperate and they settle things amicably, or they deny them and the IMC takes it from them, no matter the body count.

Unfortunately, the new initiative didn't have so many men to spare, the bulk of IMC's forces were on the frontlines fighting the Militia. Nearly three-thousand battle-ready men total were at the main base, and one-thousand men in orbit. Fortunately, these people were so outgunned that the numbers were a non-issue without calling for reinforcements, and that didn't count the spectres, stalkers, and drones. While they couldn't effectively occupy this planet, that was never the intention of the IMC.

 _'Wie einem Baby den Schnuller zu klauen, all too easy,'_ Richter thought tiredly as the people in front of him bickered.

"I have decided-!" the lord shouted, quieting his men. "I've decided to continue what I came here for. Take me to your outpost." Several men shouted how unadvised it was. They were getting really loud about it, too, regardless of the reasoning the lord was trying to say.

He raised the wingman into the air and fired a shot. The _bang_ echoed, but most importantly shut them up with a flinch. While unneeded for all they knew, he ejected the empty cylinder and placed in a new one. Now he had a full six shots should he need them.

"I can allow three men to accompany you, no more. The rest need to turn back," Richter said. It clearly didn't sit well, so he gestured to the Samsons before anything regrettable happened. "I can only fit four of you within them to take us to the outpost, and for a return journey back to Castle Black." Including the two grunts, the corpsman, and himself, they couldn't fit anymore inside the standard chassis Samsons, especially when their so armed and armored. They could put a few on the truck beds, but he wouldn't be surprised if they somehow fell off and died smashing their heads on the cold, hard ground. So no.

The lord eyed the vehicle and sighed dejectedly. "I understand, I'll take three men with me," he answered, then looked to his group for who to take. The eldest of the group stepped forward, eyes begging him, so the lord nodded. Another elder man stepped forward. "Ser Cassel," the lord said with a nod, and allowed him to join. A third man stepped forward, and for some reason it surprised the lord. "Benjen?"

"I'm First Ranger, it's my duty to see a ranging through," the man named Benjen argued. "Brother, I swore an oath, I will keep it." His brother now? Another priority protection, it seemed, especially since the lord reluctantly nodded.

"It's settled then," Richter began, drawing back attention on him. "The rest back to your homes, but the four are with me." He turned around to the Samsons, and twirled around his finger in the air. He barked to the grunts, "Dann schmeißt mal die Maschienen an. Let's move!"

* * *

"Outpost Alpha, this is Richter, we're ten seconds out," he said, as though to nobody, but Ned was convinced that someone was listening. How? He didn't know, and there was alot he didn't know today.

They had been driving for a while now, and it was done in silence, only the occasional line this Richter would say to no one. Well, to someone, just not anyone he could see, certainly not the man beside him handling this monstrosity of a carriage. A horseless carriage, that's what Rodrik Cassel called it when they first sat inside it.

When this. . . _thing_ started moving, he and Cassel immediately grabbed the handle located inside that Richter told them to hold onto, then he said something in a different language he couldn't recall. Either way, the sudden jolt of movement brought Eddard back into reality of their situation.

They were in foreign territory.

North of the Wall may have counted as land of the seven kingdoms, but in reality it couldn't be any farther from the truth. Now? Someone claimed a part of it as their own, these IMC people. He could never forget the sight of those things, the very ones he could see through the window that were flying above them around the carriage they're in. Richter called them 'drones', he also said they were there for protection, but Ned couldn't imagine anyone getting close at the sight of them.

"We've arrived," Richter told them as they passed the tree line and into a clearing. They didn't speak at all during the journey, but this one had him and Cassel look out the window in hopes to see something, and he did, but not all of it.

All Ned saw was the end of a black wall that was getting larger the closer they got, but it had some sort of large construct on it. When it swiveled, it let out a massive _bang!_ to the ground, where an explosion of snow and fire happened where it was pointing at. Ned wasn't the only one who nearly leapt off his seat.

"Wildling survivors among the corpses," Richter explained to Rodrik and him. "The cannon must've picked up a body's heat signature and put an end to it. It's been doing that for a while after an attempted raid." A cannon, was that what it was called? And it can even see one's own body heat? The thought frightened him.

Something Richter said had him focus more on where the explosion happened, and that's when he saw them. They looked more akin to just specks on snow, but he knew better. They were corpses, hundreds of wildling corpses that dared to raid them. Another explosion told him how well that went.

Before anymore further thoughts, the carriage passed the walls and finally into the keep, or outpost, he supposed. It meant that this wasn't the real home for these people, but merely an extension of it. The thought of what their headquarters could even be and what it would hold frightened him.

Through the window, it was a sight to behold. There were men and woman, wearing armor similar to that of the three besides Richter, though a few looked similar to him, in a way. Which was why he noticed none of them were smallfolk, all of them acted and looked like soldiers. Just what was this place, and who were these people? The purpose of coming here was to bring an answer to both those questions, but it looked like there was going to be more to this.

His body jolted forward when movement ceased, and with the rumbling sound ceasing, he was hearing a sound that was hard to describe. Through the window, directly in front of him was a building, but it wasn't made of wood or stone like south of the Wall, and certainly not cloth and furs like that of the wildling tents, but it was out of steel beams and metal plates connected together with rivets.

Richter and the other opened their doors and left the carriage, and not a second later Ned's and Cassel's own doors opened for them, the familiar cold wind hitting both of them. He'd have stepped out if he could, but there was a two-foot drop first. He rebuffed Richter's help and jumped onto the snow, thankfully without a stumble.

"Welcome to Outpost Alpha, Lord of Winterfell," Richter said. "We promise your protection, and your freedom to leave when you wish. You are, by all intents, our guest." He never seemed happy saying it, almost as though reading from script he wasn't content with.

"Lord Stark," Rodrik Cassel called. "The light." It was all he said, and all it really took for him to turn and see what he came here for. At first, it was what they all came here for.

"By the gods. . ." Perhaps he was expecting a pillar of light springing out of the ground, he even imagined some magical stone or tree, but not this, certainly not a skeletal, metallic construct. _'They built this, all of this.'_ It was terrifying as it was amazing. When the construct let out a high-pitched whine before pulsing a strong light into the heavens, it became more terrifying, enough that he gripped his blade still in it scabbard.

He always wondered why they let them keep their swords, now he knew why. It just didn't matter.

"Lord of Winterfell," Richter called, bringing him back to the matters at hand. "You and your friends, its best you come inside. Wir haben keine Zeit mehr zu verschwenden." He removed his helmet and latched it onto his belt, his face was almost unrecognizable if Ned hadn't seen it before, even if briefly. The black paint on his face, the line of hair down the center of his head, he hadn't even noticed them before the helmet was put on. "You'll get your answers in there," Richter said in a more human voice than before.

Right, the whole reason they were here to begin with. Looking to the side, he saw Mormont and Benjen beside the metal carriage they came in with, both of whom were looking at the construct that emitted the light. Other than them, he saw the houses, and they looked like steel, rectangular cubes placed on top of one another.

As for the people, they were marching around in groups, but they all kept their eyes on the newcomers, him. From what he could see, they would amount to a few dozen in view, yet the walls seem to be ten meters high and buildings were plentiful, not something so few people could do.

There's more of them, far more than just in this place. He already knew, but he had to tell himself once more.

"Ben, Joer," he called, and the shook their heads out of their stupor. It brought him comfort that he wasn't the only one stupefied by what he'd seen. He nodded for them to come to him, and they did, if only for things to progress.

"Ned, this place, it's unbelievable," Ben said, wonder clear in his voice as his head swiveled to look around him, and more pointedly at the light. "I doubt I would've believed anyone if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"That's why we're here, to believe and help others believe," he replied. This wasn't some respite from their duties, it was to see if they should rally the banners. "Don't forget why we're here." Ben nodded, and a pat on his back from Mormont was quick to remind the First Ranger of his duty.

"If you four are done, there's someone who'd like to meet you," Richter said at the doorway of the building he wanted them to enter. Ned didn't think calling it a castle was right, it resemble a wide, blocky tower made of glass and steel.

Eddard nodded to his three companions and moved to follow Richter, the three right behind him. He saw the carriages they came in growl back to life and moved to wherever these people put them, and the flying machinations dispersed in the same direction and out of sight.

When the five got close to the supposed door, it split down the middle and opened for them by itself. After everything he'd seen, this was extremely simple in comparison, but it still had him stop midstep and blink in surprise. Richter apparently noticed this and waited for them within the building.

Ned cleared his throat and continued forward into the building through the self-opening doors. He'd wager that the three behind him held similar thoughts, if not similar reactions.

The door closed behind them with a hiss, and almost instantly Ned felt the warmth inside this tower-like structure. Suddenly he felt the thick furs he wore were a bit stuffy. The only similar time he felt something similar was within the castle at Winterfell, where hot water from a natural spring flowed through its walls to warm its residents.

"What is this place?" Ned asked as he looked at the metallic walls, and even the metal grates he walked upon. He knew that men south of the wall were considered men of steel, but now he saw that title belong to someone else entirely.

While he wasn't expecting an answer, Richter obliged regardless. "This is Outpost Alpha, the first branch of IMC's home base in Westeros," he said. "Follow me, and stay close as not to get lost." When he walked, Ned and the others followed.

It was just as he thought, there were more somewhere else, and since this place was just a branch, then the main camp must've been far larger, and that was cause for worry. He didn't know if these people followed guest rights, yet they obliged more than one would if they were to be killed in the end. For now, he trusted them.

Above him were glass cylinders that emitted white light far brighter than any flame-lit torch, but that was the least amazing thing he'd seen inside. Occasionally, he saw some soldier or other down one hallway or other, but that was still mundane.

He saw an honest to Gods metal man, walking around like a puppet on strings in a perfectly repeated rhythm, arms forward with elbows to its waist, the construct marched passed them with not even a look in their direction, and for that Ned was thankful.

"What was that thing?" he heard Benjen half exclaim. On its chest held a picture of what could be a smiling, yellow face, and its head held one, large, glass eye with a light surrounding it. It had every feature of a man, yet did not show it was human to them. Not a glance, but instead seemed to be of complete ignorance of them

"Those are robots, you'll see a few of those walking around doing menial tasks," Richter said, which hadn't truly answered the question, and it must've been apparent on Benjen's face because he continued. "Think of them as manmade slaves. They were built to feel nothing, and do nothing until told to. Understand now?"

Not entirely, but he nodded anyway. The five then continued further into the tower and up a flight of stairs. The entire time Ned thought about that robot, or more specifically how these people could essentially build slaves, build workers, build _people_. Local laws forbade the use of slaves, he wondered if that would've extended to manmade constructs as well. It mattered not.

Richter turned and walked into a room. When Ned followed in, it was hard to describe, which so happens to be a common aspect when looking at anything in this place. There was a kind of platform an inch above their level with guardrails around it a meter in diameter, and glowing, blue, glass panes littered the walls, words he understood moving in them, disappearing, and new words taking their place.

But more importantly they were alone.

"Is the person we are to meet coming here?" Ned asked Richter, who was poking at the glass which emitted some odd chirping sounds in results. "Ser Richter?"

Suddenly, the platform in the middle came to life with a loud hum. What Ned saw had him take a step back, or perhaps it was more appropriate to say 'who'.

"By the Gods," Ned heard Cassel exclaim, who became visibly irked when the ghostly apparition of a man look at him. A blue ghost of man who looked twenty years Ned's senior. While blued, his face looked hardened with experience.

" _I'm no God, Westerosi,_ " the ghost said, eliciting a small scoff from Richter, Ned noticed. " _You can call me Marder, I'm the head of IMC's ARES division, and lead scientist for our initiative in your land._ "

Ned swallowed hard and stepped forward, having Marder look at him. "I'm Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, and Warden of the North for Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms." The ghost nodded. "I'm certain there's much to discuss, but I'm still at a loss for who and what you are."

Again, Marder nodded. " _You are correct in saying we have much to discuss, and I did not expect you to know who we are,_ " he said neutrally, neither offended nor threatening. That was a good sign, Ned supposed. " _To get things out of the way and calm your men, what you're seeing is called a hologram. Think of it as a mirror, but it shows you one who stands behind a similar mirror and the one sees you as well. The IMC uses this method extensively for communicating over long distances._ "

So he wasn't some ghost, but this was a stand in for the real Marder. It was akin to using ravens, but clearly nothing like it. "It is certainly a marvel to behold, but I don't believe you brought me here to see the capabilities of your people," Eddard said. "I believe it has to do with your presence here forth and foremost."

Marder stood there silently in appraisal. " _You are correct. We are here in search of something, so you can rest assured that we have no intention to fight or invade your people's lands at current time._ " It was almost assuring, but the last bit proved it was still a possibility. " _However, something you people have might prove invaluable, as our methods of search have yet to yield proper results._ "

Perhaps that was the most surprising of information. "Forgive me, but I find it difficult to believe that my people would have anything you people lack."

Richter chuckled amusedly at that. "Der Feine Herr versteht schon seine Lage." Marder turned to frown at him, which only had him shrug uncaringly at the wordless chiding.

" _Be that as it may,_ " Marder began as he turned back to the lord. " _Your libraries contain information, one that could greatly help us in finding what we're looking for. So we ask that you allow us to search your most ancient of books. If we found something, we'll leave peacefully. If there's nothing to be found, we will leave without a fight regardless. You have our guarantee on that._ "

Ned was shocked. The only reason they were here, and why he wasn't pierced with burning light, was for dusty old tomes? "While it is a relatively simple offer to uphold, what would happen should I refuse?"

" _Then we will take it from you._ "

There it was, that unamused, blunt answer, one Ned knew without a doubt they would follow through should it come to be. Even Richter looked amused at the supposed rebelliousness, even though it was anything but. Rather it was just to confirm what he already knew.

"So it's between me give you access to my library's books, or we head to war." Those flying machines, they no doubt had more, and that weapon Richter used to injure those two Umber soldiers, it was small, while the three that came in with the carriages must've held larger versions of the same weapon.

" _Not just your library, but also of the places you call Oldtown and King's Landing,_ " Marder added. " _I believe both of those would hold more than just yours, especially Oldtown's considering it's an institution of learning and record keeping._ " He'd have asked how they knew if they lived north of the Wall, but Eddard thought it best not to know.

"Those are more complicated, they aren't under my rule. I have no right to promise you theirs." While he expected hostility, instead Ned received an accepting nod from the apparition.

" _It does not have to right away, but considering you are Warden of the North, you no doubt have the king's ear,_ " he answered. " _I've sent someone to your position to read the books you have available and act as emissary from the IMC to take with you. I hope you can at least allow her to have an audience with your king to have him accept the offer._ "

This became very complicated, in a way that might lead to a war if things went badly. Robert was a good man, but he was terribly stubborn and did not respond to threats well. If these IMC people acted like this to him, nothing would go well, and by law and right he'd have to follow his king's command should they go to war.

Perhaps a way of trade could be done, business would lessen the apparent threat. "What would you offer in return should we allow your people to study our books?" Ned asked.

" _Gemstones and gold, mined from the very earth of Westeros using the harvester you saw outside, the one shooting light into the sky._ " So that's what it was called, and it served to mine the earth? Extraordinary. " _We do not expect to do this for free, the IMC has an abundance of funds, so paying you is a nonissue._ "

If so, then perhaps Robert would accept, if perhaps with some convincing from Jon Arryn. "I will try to send word to King's Landing of this, but I can't promise anything. But your scholars may have access to the libraries of Winterfell, that much I can do."

"Why?" It wasn't Ned who asked that, but rather Lord-Commander Mormont. From the looks of it, Ned would say he was bursting with questions to the point of frustration. "Why do you negotiate with us? I'm not disillusioned that you're doing this out of the kindness of your hearts, so why?"

Again, Richter looked nothing but amused. "If you wish, we can go to war. Though it won't last f-"

" _Enough, mercenary,_ " Marder interrupted. " _You speak out of line, watch yourself._ " All Richter did was roll his eyes and grunt. The word 'mercenary' stood out, and had Ned think perhaps they weren't simply a nation that came and settled here. Then again, no nation would call themselves IMC. Turning back to Ned, he continued, " _as I've said before, we're not here to fight, only to search and excavate what we're looking for. If working with your people gets us closer to it even faster, then so be it. If your people denied us, then we'd take the information by force, but it would be far faster if we cooperated. I hope you can understand our logic and reasoning behind the endeavor of bringing you here._ "

The apparition spoke about this _thing_ they've been trying to find for a while now. "What is it you're looking for?" Ned asked, hopefully it would be within his power so things do not escalate more than they should.

Marder looked pointedly at the lord. " _We do not know, all we know is that it's within the earth either here in Westeros or Essos, though you can rest assured we intend to expand a branch over there as well._ " He must've let that slip accidentally or simply did not care. If they weren't already in Essos, then that meant Westeros was their first destination. They weren't some invading force from Bravos or Pentos, but rather. . . he didn't know, all he had were thoughts and accusations.

For all he knew, everything Ned was told could've been a lie, but the ghostly form of the man told him they weren't lying, if anything they were hiding something with their vague remarks.

They'd tell him if they wanted him to know, he realized.

"I see," Ned said, now a far too aware of the eyes of Richter and Marder watching him. "I will take your emissary to Winterfell to follow through on our deal. However, I must demand that the person respects our laws within my land." As he said so, Marder nodded. It should've relaxed him, but it was too quickly accepted.

" _You have me word that she won't break any laws, provided that she is under your protection considering she'll be alone._ " Ned took a second to think. It was a simple request, yet it kept having him think there were ulterior motives behind it. He'd like to think that these people here were indeed simply scholars or explorers, but the mentioned cannon outside kept coming to mind. Regardless, he nodded. " _Good, I received word that she has arrived at Outpost Alpha via dropship three minutes ago, so she's waiting for you outside. Farewell, Lord Eddard Stark._ "

Before Eddard could respond, the blue ghost of a man vanished from view. The room now eerily silent and dark without the apparition speaking and illuminating it.

"Follow me," Richter said as he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. "I'll take you outside, and provide a security escort until you reach the ice wall." Ned took in a deep breath to relax himself, and followed the man out of the room and back to a familiar, alien hallway, the other three close behind.

As they walked, Ben walked up to his side. "I hope you know what you're doing, brother," he whispered, though Ned's answer may not please him on the matter. "All of this, it's madness. Metal men, towers that shoot light, horseless carriages? I doubt any lord would believe you without seeing this."

The idea haunted Ned as well. He was here to reason with his liege lords, his vassal houses, his bannermen, but now that all seemed like a dream. How could he follow through with his duties if he couldn't even convince his own men to understand the existence of these IMC people? They'd sooner lump Ned as insane or senile than believe him.

"You don't have to worry about that," Richter said, clearly showing that whispering doesn't work in hallways, and let out a low menacing chuckle. "Sie wird dabei zweifellos hilfreich sein." Ned didn't have it in him to ask what he said, for he felt he'd find out soon.

The walked the hallways in silence, now untrusting of speaking in hushed tones privately when this close. While he'd seen it all before, Eddard still found the sights alluring in a way, the glass tubes of white light, the metal grates he stepped on, and especially the eerie and silent robot that occasionally passed him.

And then he saw the familiar, self-opening door, though from a distance it looks more akin to a metal wall with a line down the middle. And when it split open, the ever familiar cold swarmed him once he stepped through it. He was surprised how dark it had become since they first found Richter, most likely the clouds had actually gotten thicker since then.

What was new, however, was the whining sound nearby. And of course, Ned saw a kind of. . . _thing_ on a large, square platform. He would've asked about it, but then the thing _flew_ up into the air and above the thick clouds. Amazement did not do his feelings justice, but what came with it was a sense of fear.

He should've known when saw those drones, and imagined it on a larger scale. If these people mastered flight, then what good was the Wall? Their strongest defense had become merely a mild inconvenience to these people.

"I see our guests saw my Goblin," said a feminine vibrating voice, similar to when Richter donned his helmet. Looking forward to the source, what he saw wasn't nearly as surprising as it would've been an hour ago, certainly ten seconds ago.

"Ash," Richter greeted. "Or should I call you Lady Emissary Ash from now on?" Her white, frozen face showed no emotion at the sarcastic jab, likely it never would since she was one of those emotionless robots Richter told them about. Richter turned to Ned and gestured to the. . . woman? "Ash here will act as our emissary, and is now under your protection, Lord Eddard Stark."

"I see," he said, composing himself and walked to the robot with his hand outstretched. "I hope the ties between our people proves fruitful, Lady Ash." He heard Richter let out a low snicker. He said something wrong, clearly.

She looked to his hand for merely a second before taking it. It felt like he would've imagined, like cold metal wrapping around his fingers. "It's best you simply call me Ash from now on, Lord Stark." She let go and turned her comrade. "I'll be requisitioning one of your Gremlins and some supplies."

He grunted. "Take it all, for all I care. It's for the initiative, not mine," Richter replied. He had some thoughts about this 'initiative' they kept mentioning, but refrained from asking. Considering how far things had been taken, he supposed it wouldn't hurt.

But it was too late as Mormont stepped forward, interrupting their discussion or other and bringing Richter's eyes and Ash's hollow sockets on him. "Forgive me, but your people repeated about your initiative, what is it, exactly?"

These IMC people were searching for something, that was all that Marder every told to the four. Even what he did tell, it betrayed nothing of their intentions. Vague remarks here, an open-for-debate statement there, nothing was truly revealed.

"What you're asking is classified information, secret only to the higher ranked of the IMC and a select few," Ash explained, which had Ned sigh. As he thought, these IMC people knew more than they were letting on if they weren't telling their own soldiers. "However, we can let you know what every other soldier here knows." Ash stepped forward in front of Ned and Joer. "All I'm told to inform you should you ask, is that our initiative is the search of an item we dubbed as, the Ark."

* * *

 **I mean come on, if you played Titanfall 2, then you must've known what they were searching for. If you don't and just like sci-fi mixed with GoT and have no idea about the Titanfall universe, the Ark is an alien energy source in the game the antagonists use for their equivalent of a Death Star.**

 **I'd appreciate a review, it's how we authors know if we got things right and fix what we did wrong.**


	5. The One And The Wolves

.

 **Chapter 5, who's ready!?**

 **Any of ya'll seen the anime GATE? It's** _ **almost**_ **about the modern Japanese military heading to a Lord of the Rings style world and establishing a presence there. I absolutely loved the setting, but hated nearly everything else. While** _ **you**_ **might like it, the characters and story had me tear my hair out from disappointment. It could've been so much more. . .**

 **Venting over, on with the story!**

* * *

 **Steel Versus Titanium, Wildfire Versus Thermite; The Winner Is Easy To See With The Simplest Foresight!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The One And The Wolves**

A loud horn was sounded as Ned and the accompanying near-fifty Rangers approached the Wall. While it was intended to reach the Wall with only Rodrik, Joer, and Benjen, they were quick enough to find the Rangers sent back before they could. In the end, he exited the carriage and rejoined them for their journey back on horseback.

Behind him, the exhausted men were rushing back to report his departure with Richter, and supposedly bring all the banners and rush the North to get him. Fortunately, he reached them before a war was made.

Behind them, however, was an armored carriage with a single occupant following the group. Ash, she. . . it. . . she? was called, the acting emissary from the IMC, an organization, not a nation. Things were complicated, and complicated led to misunderstandings, which more often than not would lead to war.

And it was him who had to explain it all. Ned sighed, knowing the future events to be stressful.

In the distance, he could hear the gears as the metal gate lifted open. He could already see the dark tunnel, but at the end of it was a black brother with a torch to light their way.

"Do we ambush that creature when it reaches the center, my lord?" one of the men asked. When they had to camp, he had to silence any notion of attack against Ash, as he would do again here, but it looked like it wasn't needed.

"You will do no such thing," Joer told his subordinate hotly. "Attacking that creature might as well be a death sentence for us all." Joer and he tried explaining what they had seen at Outpost Alpha, and proved to be as difficult as he expected. Drones, guns, and that large flying contraption, none of which was easy to describe to those who haven't seen. Though a glance at Ash told the Rangers he was no liar nor senile. . . he hoped.

Perhaps he was senile, and everything he'd seen was his mind torturing him with illusionary events. _That_ was far easier to explain than anything he'd seen, hence why he was frightened he couldn't convince his liege lords and King Robert.

"If any of you attack, I will have no choice but to kill you for violating guest rights," Ned said, Joer grunted in agreement. Hopefully that was enough to stop possible attacks. Neither Ned nor Joer liked this, but the other option was a war with people who learned to _fly_.

Up above, it was difficult to see, but he saw a scorpion trained on something, it wasn't hard to guess what. Regardless, the Gremlin, as it was called, was too close to the column of men for a competent man to risk loose an arrow.

At the entrance of the tunnel, Lord Stark saw the man in charge of leading them. It was none other than Ser Thorne, looking grim as he always had.

"Still alive I see, milords, thank the Gods," he said, not a speck of relief in his voice, but he nodded his head in respect regardless. "What of that _thing_ trailing behind you? What is that?"

"If things go well, nothing," Joer said as Thorne walked beside their horses to light their path. "If things turned sour, our and the realm's death."

Allister blinked and hummed as he saw the carriage start entering the tunnel. "Shouldn't we kill it, then? I can have the men ready to loose a hundred arrows upon in the courtyard."

"Only if you want us all to die, Allister," Joer said angrily. "No one is to dare harm it, or I swear by the Gods I'll execute you all myself."

Allister looked to Joer oddly, then back at the carriage, its loud hum reverberating along the tunnel walls. "What did you find?" he asked. "Was it only that thing?"

"That thing and far more of it," Joer replied. "I'll explain it all when the men gather. For now, that _thing_ is under guest rights."

Thorne scowled, but accepted the Lord-Commander's answer, if reluctantly. Ned wasn't happy about this either, so he understood Allister's feelings on the matter. Though in reality, Allister had absolutely no idea of why they're acting like this. He hadn't seen what they'd seen.

Light shone through the end of their tunnel with another black brother waiting, one Allister ran to reach before any of them. The unfamiliar black brother hastily waved to someone. Considering Allister's earlier suggestion, archers were now being recalled.

For the first time in two days, he breathed in air from south of the Wall as he exited the tunnel. It shouldn't be anything special, but it felt like home, even if it was only Castle Black.

"Father!" Robb yelled from above on a walkway with Jon beside him and Theon behind but unmoving. When his two sons made to run to him, they were stopped by a black brother before moving any further. He saw them argue with him, but the brother didn't let them go. Ned was thankful for that.

The two boys stopped still seconds later, Ned didn't need to look why, he already knew. He heard the carriage growl a little louder as it moved to the side before giving a light screech and stopping still.

"Anyone who dares even spits in its direction gets his head on a spike!" he heard Joer shout commandingly before getting off his own horse and walk his way to the Gremlin. Ned sighed and did the same, even Benjen decided to join him.

"Say what you will, but the next few weeks won't be boring," Ben said in dark humor.

"Boring is safe, boring is good," he replied, noticing that Ash still hadn't gotten out of the carriage. Was she waiting for them? He doubted that. "I'll call upon some craftsmen to make more pitch and construct additional scorpions."

"You think that would be enough?"

"No."

As he approached, the metal door opened and she hopped out, snow crunching under her bladed legs when she landed. Ash looked around Castle Black, her face frozen in neutrality like stone. Every subtle movement, every small jerk, they were so very humanlike that it didn't match her metal body.

"Lady Ash," Joer called when he was close enough, having her eerie gaze look upon him. "Welcome to Castle Black."

She gave a humanlike nod. "Appreciated, Lord-Commander," she said, her voice vibrating as he remembered. "How long do we stay before we leave for Winterfell?"

It was Eddard's turn. As he stepped beside Joer, he said, "we'll be leaving shortly, merely changing horses and refilling our supplies." He didn't want to stay here longer than he had to, more so if any rogue brother felt to play hero and attempt something regrettable.

"Understood. I'll wait in here until then," she said before jumping back into her carriage and turned back to Mormont. "I recommend you inform your men not to get close, lest they touch something they really shouldn't." The man grunted, and she closed the door shut. The black glass not showing anything inside.

Ned let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He half thought he'd see an arrow bounce off of Ash's metal body, thankfully it wasn't the case. He saw Joer bring a man and order him to keep men clear of the carriage.

Ben patted his back. "Come on, you get some hot stew to eat, and I'll have the stewards ready your horses and supplies for your men," he said kindly. "Though I suppose you should speak to your sons before then."

Right, his sons. Perhaps it was best to explain their new visitor before they take their journey back to Winterfell. When he turned to look at them, Ned saw they were where he saw them last. The black brother from before keeping his hands on their shoulders to keep them from moving.

After one last look at the metal carriage, he went to see his sons. He wondered if Jon learned more of this place, if he should perhaps spend time learning about the world before cruelly throwing the rest of his life here. Winterfell may be cruel to him for being known as the bastard, especially by Catelyn, but was it bad enough to warrant this?

And if they were to fight these IMC people, then Jon was even more in danger.

Ned nodded and thanked the black brother, who nodded back before releasing them. The two, now calmer, walked to their father, with Theon not far behind.

"Father," Robb said. "It's good to see you back safe and sound." Jon beside him nodding in agreement. His eldest son then looked to the carriage. "What is that thing?"

Of course his curiosity wouldn't be kept back for long. "That is a horseless carriage, and inside is a visitor that will be joining us in Winterfell," he replied. It didn't take long before another question was asked.

"A visitor?" Theon asked incredulously. "That demon creature is a visitor? My lord, is that wise?"

If it was to avoid war, then yes, it was very wise. "The choice was thrust upon me, and I had no choice but to accept," he said, his voice sounded tired, even to him. "I will tell you in more detail later, but for now know that the demon creature you mention is an emissary, and will be treated under guest rights." She had a metal body, she probably didn't need to be worried about being hurt.

"My lord, if it pleases you, I can kill that thing and make you free," Theon said, drawing his bow, right before Ned quickly gripped the shaft before it made it off his ward's shoulder. "My lord?"

" _Don't_ ," Ned hissed, catching all three by surprise. He took in a deep breath to calm himself. "She is under guest rights, and I will not tolerate any of my House to be complacent in causing a war." Again, he breathed to relax his tone. "The people she's with, they're not like us."

Theon looked like he wanted to scoff, but held back from his lord's tone. "What is she? A wildling? I doubt we need to be scared of them," he said cockily. "What could some half-frozen bandits do?"

Shaking his head, Ned said, "if it were wildlings, I would've said so, but no, they aren't. They're something _far_ more dangerous if angered. And I refuse to give them reason to be." King Robert might, and Ned would be honor-bound to do his grace's commands. He hoped he was enough to convince him otherwise. Just like now when Theon nodded and placed his bow back in place.

"What did you see?" Jon this time asked. "You reached the blue light, haven't you, my lord?" Yes, and he nearly wished he didn't, but he had the suspicion they were going to find him anyway.

Lord Eddard nodded. "I'll tell you more about it when we reach home. For now, prepare to leave, we won't be here much longer."

* * *

"HQ, the convoy is now approaching Winterfell," Ash said from inside the Gremlin just as she saw the castle in the distance.

" _Copy that,_ " the woman said on the other line of the radio. " _The_ IMS Malta _is positioned in orbit, so support is there should you need it_." What that meant was if the right circumstances were met, the IMC would orbit drop a battalion of Marines, neutralize everyone in the vicinity, and take control of the castle as IMC territory.

"Understood, Ash out." The radio clicked to silence. Around her vehicle were horsemen of House Stark, Eddard Stark's personal guard. She wondered if they were there to keep her in check, or stop people from attacking her. Stark might not know the true might of the IMC, but she knew he understood that a war with the IMC won't be normal nor ever in their favor.

Why else would he allow a stranger as her into his home if it wasn't out of fear of orbital bombardment?

Checking the outside temperature, it was several degrees warmer than north of the so called Wall. Not exactly the most imaginative of names of a landmark, but if it worked, it worked. Regardless, the temperature difference on this side was astonishing for a planet of this size, though perhaps they were just passing autumn according to the IMC's meteorology analysis.

Already she and horsemen began entering a town, dubbed Wintertown thanks to the 'intel' that she personally 'acquired'. Whatever happened to her, Ash didn't know, nor did she care enough to find out. Likely being pampered for what her mind has to offer, or being threatened to have screws driven into her fingertips.

Through the tinted glass, Ash could see civilians bow before their lord, or widen their eyes and gawk at the sight of her Gremlin. They weren't getting close, likely more out of the unknown that her vehicle was, especially since they couldn't see her through the black glass.

She looked to the back seat filled with supplies to see the ideal weapon if she was to vacate the Gremlin and fight. Of the weapons she stocked, there was a Volt as her main weapon, an R-201 rifle for more power if needed, a scoped G2A4 rifle for medium range sniping, and the P2016 pistol attached to her as her standard sidearm.

The IMC also provided her a suppressor for her G2A4 rifle and pistol, in case the IMC ever wanted someone discreetly removed. Both the G2A4 rifle and suppressors were hidden, just to make sure none would draw conclusions. If she was preoccupied, then the IMC would drop in a Kraber sniper unit to take out the target from a kilometer away.

Needless to say, several situations were taken to account, most of which involved black op tactics as a response.

That thought and recollection lasting not even a full second, she looked back ahead to the road, labeling the Volt as the ideal weapon for its quickness and flexibility. It took them two days and three nights to finally reach Winterfell, and she was relieved to know that progress was finally going to be made for the search of the Ark.

Granted, she was skeptical in searching their books for a hint for where or what the Ark even was. Traditional means of research and experimentation didn't produce anything worthwhile, sampling, mining, even radiation exposure, nothing worked. All that was left was asking the locals, not the usual IMC method at all, but constraints were made, one of which wasn't bringing the full force of the IMC's military might.

The gates ahead slowly opened, and she finally officially entered Winterfell. The guards she could see past her window gripped their spears tighter, men on the ramparts held their crossbows more at the ready. Wariness might actually be their true savior.

The horses in front of her stopped, prompting her to stop as well. Through the driver's window to the left, she saw a gathering of people, or perhaps calling them her hosts was more apt.

"HQ, this is Ash, I've made it to Winterfell and will begin data collection soon," she said through her boosted internal radio.

" _HQ copies,_ " the woman responded." _Be advised, any possible hostilities may be shown at first contact._ " Richter can attest to that. " _Pro-_ " The radio went turned to static before going silent.

" _Pilot, this is General Marder onboard the_ IMS Draconis _._ " What a surprise. " _Pilot, you are_ _ **not**_ _to show hostility, we are not at liberty to invade and take what we need. Do so, and that will be considered as a breach of our contract and will mean your termination. Standard exceptionality applies, but do not test them. Marder out._ " Radio clicked silent without even giving her room to respond.

That was. . . a little jarring, especially with what he meant. She was almost completely barred from fighting, standard exceptionality being if her life was in danger she'd be allowed to use force. But there was the Marder version of a nod that meant she should avoid even every possible situation for it, where even by mistake wouldn't be forgiven.

Essentially she was on very thin ice.

She heard knocking on glass, snapping her out of the analysis of the warning Marder sent her. Looking at who, it was one of the Stark guards. She gripped the handle and pulled it to open the door, the guards moved back as the door swung open.

People immediately gasped at the sight of her before her bladed legs touched the cold ground. It was expected for people who never saw a pilot simulacrum, or even a robot in general. She noticed a few soldiers look more on edge, but she still had a pistol on her should she need to use it.

"Lady Ash," the guard greeted, he was with the group during the journey back. "Lord Stark has tasked me with escorting you to the great hall for an audience." Did he leave already? Likely to warn anyone and everyone, she assumed. "Please, come with me. We were also tasked with guarding your carriage from anyone approaching."

She nodded, then grabbed a medium-sized chest from the seat beside her. "Lead the way," she said as she hefted the metal box onto her shoulder. The guard nodded back and walked towards the castle, him and nine other soldiers. To protect her or to keep her under watch, maybe even both. As long as it wasn't an attack, she's obligated to comply if it moved things forward.

She read her HUD as a new message popped up from HQ 'Implement sonar scan to construct detailed map of the building'. Thankfully she was the only one who could see that, and that she had a sonar emitter in the Gremlin as per IMC order. If they figure out the lodging, she'll need to get on that.

More so for IMC Marines to know how to move inside should they be deployed.

"The great hall is here," the guide said as the reached a large door. "Inside will be mostly empty besides a few guards, as well as Lord and Lady Stark, and their council." He looked around, then back at Ash. "If you show any hostile movement, you can be rest assured we will not let you get even close to Lord Stark to even breath on him, monster," he threatened, then opened the door for her to enter.

Ash paused slightly before entering the hall, disregarding everything that was told to her by that guard. Though as he said, there were perhaps twenty guards posted inside, and several civilians including Lord and Lady Stark. She placed the chest she was carrying in front of her on the floor.

"Lady Ash," Stark greeted from his seat in the hall, he gestured to the stunned woman beside him, but she clamped down on it quick. "This is my wife, Catelyn Stark, formerly Tully." He gestured to an older man with robes and chains, Ash knew this was a maester. "Maester Luwin, my trusted advisor." The old man didn't nod, merely show a kind of wonderment at her. Stark then gestured to a middle-aged man to his side. "Vayon Poole, my steward, he will be the one to help with your lodging within Winterfell. Now if you could introduce yourself to everyone."

She nodded. "My name is Ash, a representative of the IMC, the Interstellar Mining Corporation," she began, watching her HUD for any update from HQ if she should mention or omit something. "I've come here under their initiative to research local recorded information in search of an energy source located here we've dubbed as the Ark." She was a Pilot, but also a computer, she was trained to fight and equipped to research, hence why she was best suited for a solo mission such as this.

"Forgive me, Lady Ash," Maester Luwin said. She was getting a little irked for being called 'lady', even if it was just a formality. "But even with all you just said, I think I can speak for all of us when I say we still have no idea for what you are."

"I believe your lord understands what a robot is." Looking to Eddard, he nodded lightly. "In simple terms, robots are metal puppets who can move under their own volition. However, they have no free will, their existence itself is manmade to do as they're told, while robots such as myself are more unique for we have a mind of our own, a personality, so to speak."

"How wondrous," Luwin muttered. "So they're like men built by man?" Ash thought it was close enough, so she nodded. "How?"

"While I may be one, I don't know the process in making them," she lied. If she had to explain the concept of artificial intelligence, she'd be here all week to explain every minute detail.

"And what of this IMC?" Lady Stark asked. "From the name, it sounds like a merchant's guild than a nation." She was right, but they were never hiding it.

"The IMC-" Ash quieted when a sudden message appeared on her HUD, simply explaining that she shouldn't explain the 'interstellar' portion of the name. "The IMC is a massive company that has business in precious metals, energy, and robotics. They've invested time, finances, and manpower to locate and study the Ark. They are willing to work with you, and pay you, if you help us find it." They have their hands in other things as well, but those three were their prime commodities.

Maybe HQ was right, explaining that they come from 'beyond the stars' or maybe even from another dimension would be too radical for these people. The IMC doesn't need to be involved in whatever conflict that may arise from it, so it was best to keep quiet about it for now.

"Business in energy?" Luwin asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Most of the items we use are powered by an energy source," she replied. "We're able to harvest energy using multiple methods from multiple sources, and able to apply it to our equipment. I myself have an energy core powering my robotic body, the carriage outside uses combustible oils to power it and move it without horses. Hence why this energy source here has caught the IMC's interest."

The maester looked excited, almost giddy from new discoveries of what man can achieve, though these people may never will. Not from how their technological status had been stagnant for several millennia.

"What if we deny you our help?" Catelyn Stark said. "What if we want none of what you bring?"

"Then we take it by force."

The guards shuffled, metal plate rubbing against chainmail as they began gripping their swords or shift their spears. She didn't receive a warning from HQ, so she didn't do anything out of line just yet, but she shouldn't push her luck.

"Guards, calm yourselves," Lady Stark hastily said, then turned back to Ash. "I mean no disrespect, my husband told me about what you people possess, but I wanted to hear your intentions for myself." Eddard Stark hadn't even seen a fraction of what they had; the Titans, the missiles, the battleships. Nothing, but it seemed to be enough to warrant caution.

Good.

"I understand, Lady Stark. You can rest assured that the IMC considered force as a true last resort." More so now than they ever had before. "We respectfully ask your nobility that you allow us to conduct our research, in return we will give a weekly tribute." She knelt down, unlatched the box and raised the lid. "This isn't a payment, merely a gesture of goodwill. The real payments will be double in size."

Even Eddard Stark lit up in surprise at the gift. Gold ingots stocked the innards, and the lid was padded with foam, but the divots it had held an assortment of gems, ranging from diamonds, rubies and sapphires. All mined from Outpost Alpha, nothing the IMC needs, and not even half of what they mined.

"I see," Eddard said, sending men to collect the chest. "As I said to your leader, Marder, I accept it with special conditions. Are you aware of what they are, Lady Ash?"

She nodded and stepped back as men in armor took away the chest. "I'm under your laws, and I am not to overstep my boundaries while in your land. I'm aware of my position, and the IMC has no intention of breaking our agreement." A message popped up, 'Remind him'. "Though we also expect you to honor your end as well."

The words looked like it aged him ten years. "I intend to honor our deal fully, as difficult as it might be." He mumbled that last bit. She had no idea what that would mean, but their sources said local nobles were terribly proud and stubborn. The IMC should count themselves lucky they met the Starks first, they seem far more amicable.

Technically the first natives they met were wildings, or freefolk, but that didn't really work out considering their massacre at Outpost Alpha. Considering they were planning to construct more outposts, Ash could only wonder how many more of them they're going to meet.

"Then onto the matter of lodging," he said finally. "I assume you'll have to be near the maester's office."

"It'd be perfect, unless the maester is bothered by my presence."

The old man shook his head. "I'd be honored to be a part of a study such as this, though I do hope you answer some of my own questions." She resisted the urge to shrug, but she nodded. She won't tell him everything on it, especially nothing compromising. "Then I have no objections on the matter."

Lord Stark turned to Ash once more. "Then the matter is settled for now," he said, looking a bit relieved to have finished without incident. "I'll have my steward show you to your chambers."

"Appreciated, but I'd like to get my equipment from my carriage first." It was bizarre calling the Gremlin a carriage, but like when they call her lady, she'd just have to settle.

Eddard nodded. "I'll have some men assist you with that. I will be sending word to the king and my liege lords about the IMC." And again, he aged another ten years. "I pray to the gods they believe me." They have to, or else. . .

"Then with your permission, I'll take my leave." They both nodded, gestured to a few men, and she turned back, only now with a few of the guards and Vayon Poole following behind.

Immediately when the door opened, two children tipped over inside onto the floor. They dressed well and were particularly clean, so Ash deduced they were children of someone here in office.

"Arya, Brandon!" Catelyn shouted. Well, now she knew whose children they were.

When the two children looked up from her mechanical legs and see her face, they yelped in fright and scrambled back. Turns out, guards were nowhere to be seen. Looking back to the rather frightened kids, she took a discreet photo of them if they ever needed to _acquire_ them and offer some incentive to Lord Eddard Stark.

The girl jumped to stand in front of her brother defensively, as though Ash intended to eat him. Ash's response was simply walking down the corridor to reach her Gremlin. Already she could hear Lady Stark's chiding of her children behind her, but she had more important things in mind.

Like getting that sonic emitter planted.

* * *

"-and so, I, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, implore King Robert Baratheon, an audience with this emissary to further negotiations between us and the aforementioned IMC," Jon Arryn read aloud the letter during a meeting of the small council. "This is what Eddard had to say."

Robert, in a rare occasion, decided to join the small council once he heard his brother by bond had sent a letter. Jon had read it first, and was very hesitant to even bring it up, but he thought better of it. He raised Eddard, he knew the boy who grew far too fast for the war, and this letter was genuine in every word.

"People who use metal, horseless carriages, makers of metal, soulless men, users of flying little contraptions that shoot light? Are you sure this was Lord Stark and not one of his clearly imaginative little children?" Little Finger said mockingly, though Jon was half ready to accept that. "Or has our dear Lord Eddard taken up writing stories?"

"I'm going to have to agree with Lord Baelish on the matter," Master of Ships Stannis Baratheon said unkindly. "Burn away that letter, Jon, it's nothing but a fairytale." He wanted to, if nothing more than to preserve the dignity of the boy he raised.

Renly gave a fake indignant gasp. "And not record this? It's certainly one of the best stories I've heard in my lifetime," he said, his tone so sweet it had to be fake. "Why, I myself am looking forward to the next chapter!" Stannis grunted in displeasure at his brother's eccentricity. "Please do send him a reward for the most creative story yet, I say it's very well worth it."

"Enough, with the lot of yeh," Robert half-shouted. "I won't have any of yeh mock my best friend, though I do have to say this wasn't what I expected from Ned." He turned his bearded face to Jon. "You called me down here to read me this? Do yeh know I had a whore to attend to before you interrupted me with this, aye?"

"Your Grace, this is a message from the Warden of the North," he implored. "You can't just miss out on a message such as this."

The king grunted in acknowledgement, though he would've responded far too differently if it was Tywin Lannister or Mace Tyrell who sent the message. Likely he wouldn't have even attended the council if it wasn't from Ned himself.

"So what of it? Ned's either telling the truth, or he's gone senile." He grunted again in displeasure. "To be honest, I've no clue which is more frightening."

Metal men that walk around and have the ability to use 'guns', a machination that shoots metal faster than any bow, and some were bigger that caused explosions. Frightening indeed, but he knew where Robert's mind's would sooner accept that Ned had gone mad. If anyone could back Ned's claim, there was _him_.

Though it seemed Robert beat him to it. The king turned to the oddly silent man and asked, "Varys, what of your 'little birds' that you're so proud of, what do they have to say about this?"

The man kept his hands within his sleeves. If Jon hadn't known any better, he would've said the Master of Whispers looked distracted, or even concerned. When Jon was reading, Varys was attentive as he always was, but after that he was something else.

The eunuch didn't respond at first, in fact he seemed indecisive in what to say. "Spit it out, man!" Robert boomed. "I don't have all day, and I have a woman who needs my cock in her mouth."

Varys bit his lower lip before finally finding the words. "Your grace," he began slowly, hesitant still. "My little birds tell me that a pillar of light was indeed seen north of the Wall." So that corroborated with Ned's letter, but there had to be more. "And my little bird in Wintertown say they've seen a metal horseless carriage." The words were heavy, Jon felt, even he felt them. "As for within the castle of Winterfell, they said they also saw a metal doll the size of a man, walking by its own volition into the castle. While I didn't hear of guns nor these 'drones' he spoke of, I'm afraid to say that Lord Stark's message is indeed true."

A fist slammed onto the table. "What nonsense is this!?" Stannis shouted. "Your little birds are as mad as Stark! Where's Grand Maester Pycelle when you need him?"

"Pycelle is tending to Joffrey at Queen Cersei's request, as our prince scraped his knee," Varys replied, upsetting Stannis further at using a maester what a nursemaid would do. "Back to the matter, the words 'IMC' has come up multiple times from my little birds, as did the name of the emissary, Ash. It's the name of the doll that I mentioned before, or that 'metal puppet' you read in Lord Stark's message, if you prefer. Say what you will, but he wasn't lying nor is he mad."

Petyr scoffed. "Yes well, there is _one way_ to put a stop to all this, or even confirm it all." Jon knew Baelish had his own ways of gathering information, though surprising he didn't know before Varys.

"Send the emissary here, of course," Renly said uncaringly. That boy could barely read the mood of a room, but he was correct this time. "Accept the audience, what better way to see if our dear Ned Stark isn't as mad as we believe to be?"

"You too, brother?" Stannis growled, and stood to leave. "Do what you will, I'm not taking part in this madness." He then stormed out of the council chambers.

Renly sighed. "Looks like I upset my loving eldest brother, but he did give us his consent for the audience, if you think about it."

"Thankfully we don't really need any ships," Petyr japed. "Perhaps they will fly to King's Landing with those flying machines Lord Stark mentioned. Though I do look forward to it. If this was real, a source of income to let these IMC people read some old tomes? Why, it would be mad not to accept." He gave a little laugh.

Jon believed the council's opinions have been heard, most were mocking the matter, and a few, including himself, were wary of this. However, his opinion was like that of Petyr. First, they need to know if this was real, and bringing this emissary was the best choice for that.

"Your grace, as your Hand, I ask that you allow this audience to happen," Jon told the king, who had been oddly silent during the council's final exchange. "It is indeed the best way to get to the root of this."

"Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" Jon didn't like his tone, almost as though Robert was tired of it all. "To hell with it!" He took his goblet of wine and downed it all in a single swig, then threw it across the room. "Send the emissary, and we'll see who's mad then." Another decision made out of impulse. Jon couldn't help but shake his head.

"I don't believe you made that choice out of the information. . ." Varys muttered. Good, Jon wasn't the only one who thought so.

Sighing, Jon said, "I'll write the letter to bring Lady Ash here."

"Fantastic, it's settled," Robert said irritably before standing back up and leaving. "Do send my regard, Jon, and tell that cold bastard to come and visit sometime." And then he left, like this was some bothersome formality he decided to grace them with.

Jon shook his head at the boy he raised as a ward so many years ago. He then looked to the remainder of the small council, currently consisting of Renly, Petyr, and Varys, all of whom were already leaving.

Except for Varys.

The eunuch approached him, and his heavy perfume overwhelmed Jon as it always did. Not even his old age could weather his sense of smell enough.

"Lord Hand, I've a matter of great importance I need to speak to you about, but this issue with the IMC has taken up most of my attention," he explained. "Worry not, I'll be sure to bring any information I find in the next meeting."

After this IMC business, Jon couldn't think of a better way to spend the remainder of the day than locked up in his chambers with a large goblet of wine, but due to Robert's disposition, most of the king's business had been thrust upon him, including working with the small council.

"Make it quick, Varys. I know that you know I have much work to do."

"Indeed you do, Lord Hand, but this is a matter of lineage." He moved in close, making his perfumed scent even more overwhelming. "There is a book, one that says the history of the bloodlines of the seven kingdoms. What I've read was indeed too dangerous to ignore."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "What could this book possibly say?"

"You'd be surprised, Lord Hand. Very surprised indeed."

* * *

 **People who write a Game of Thrones story without the politics is like writing Avatar without any of the bending. So while I understand this can be more sci-fi action (with muthafukin' Titans!), that's not what a story with a Game of Thrones setting is about. . . but the Titans will still come.**

 **Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	6. The Open Palm And The Titanium Fist

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 **Chapter 6**

 **After long and hard deliberation, I** **'ve decided to keep all of the Titans' abilities. There were a few I was going to omit for the sake of realism (Fire Wall, Flame Core, Arc Wave, etc…), but fuck it, it's easier to keep them, and really doesn't change anything if I remove them or not. They're still OP in the GoT world.**

 **I won't be doing health regeneration and infinite ammo for pilots and Titans, though, that's just fucking stupid. They're as brittle without armor like us.**

* * *

 **The People Of Westeros Better Hope Peace Wasn't Foregone; Because They've Yet To See The True, Titan Paragon!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: The Open Palm And The Titanium Fist**

As it turned out, living in Winterfell wasn't as convenient as Ash once thought. Five days in, and she was still avoided by anyone who had sight of her. Though that wasn't what made it difficult, in fact it made living in Winterfell a little easier. It was the lack of elevators, roads, and the constant stream of questions from the measter that made things annoying.

"You say you can harvest energy from the sun?" Luwin asked in wonderment. "Incredible!" Yes, solar energy, the most basic, near-infinite source of energy with little-to-no waste, truly a marvel of engineering. Now as long as he didn't ask about nuclear power.

"It is one source, yes," Ash said neutrally as she scanned through a historic tome within the measter's office. She wondered what he would've thought about the concept of the Dyson Sphere, likely give the man a heart attack, which sounded like a viable way to get rid of him.

"To think you can harvest energy from winds as well, truly astonishing to have nature itself work for you." She regretted showing him the diagram of a wind turbine a few days ago.

The book she was reading said little, just some history of the Targaryen dynasty and how it came to be, but she still placed each page she read onto the scanner and sent the information to the _Draconis_ for research and logging.

When Luwin first saw it, he was marveled how the words of the book were written perfect on the scanner's display, especially when she graced his request and printed out a book of his that looked as though it'd fall to dust at the slightest breeze. The man might've looked at the machine as though it was a god to be revered.

She would've sighed if she had lungs and a mouth, and closed the tenth book she fully scanned that morning. "Another failed venture?" Luwin asked, and she nodded.

She must've scanned two-hundred books since arriving, and none of which held any weight for the initiative. Some mentioned magic and its power, which, sadly, might be the only clue to the Ark. Marder's face soured when she recommended looking into the logged instances of magic, but he'd try it for no other reason than it's just possible that it was the Ark.

"This is the last book in your possession that spoke of Targaryens?" Ash asked, and he nodded. She had to admit, the man had an impressive collection of books, some so old they date hundreds of years, those she had to read and scan with care. Fortunately her robotic hands were dexterous when they needed to be.

A knock on the door, having the measter widen his eyes. "Gods, is it time to teach the children already?" he asked himself as he looked out the window. "My, how time passes when discussing fascinating subjects." Not for her, she felt every bit of it.

As Ash picked up another book to read through, the measter went and opened the door to see three Stark children and a guard, who happened to be Robb Stark and was merely guiding his three youngest siblings to make sure they didn't miss their tutoring.

"Yes, children, come in," Luwin said as the trio walked in, hesitant at the sight of her. The youngest, Rickon Stark, hiding behind Brandon when Ash turned her mask to them before going back to her book.

"Rickon, we've talked about this," Robb said when he walked in, and knelt to meet his brother's eyes. "Lady Ash is a guest, she'd do you no harm." True, though she'd kidnap him should the order come. "Now take your seats, we'll begin our lessons shortly."

The trio made sure to keep their distance from her, which suited her just fine, though she often attracted their attention when she put the page on the scanner. While it would be the only attention she'd have received, the eldest approached her with clear intent.

"Is there something you need, Robb Stark?" she asked.

"My lord father received a letter from King's Landing this morning," Robb replied. "It's a response to his request for an audience between you and the king." About time. Five days here wasn't without its annoyances. "Father requested me to bring you to his office."

She nodded and stood up from her new book. Ash made sure her pistol and knife were still on her, and looked to the young lord. "Lead the way, Lord Robb Stark." The boy nodded and turned around, giving his farewells to his younger siblings.

She followed him out to the corridor, where the older Stark's ward and his bastard son stood in wait. The three along with Robb made a little entourage of their own, often bickering annoyingly or trying to one-up another, as they so loved to yell where she could hear and likely any other time.

The mopey one gave her a quick bow of the head and looked away, while the other one had a flash of disgust before finally looking away. The days she'd been here had met with similar reactions, not that she mingled with them to get used to her. Even Robb when he talked to her was very rigid.

The young lord took the lead, followed by his half-brother and friend, with herself close behind them. None of them said anything, besides a few comments to the other not including her. Thankfully they were silent whenever they knew she was close in a room nearby, as if the thick stone walls weren't enough to mitigate sound.

Speaking of walls, the inside of this castle was shockingly warm, to the point she thought her thermometer was malfunctioning. After consulting with HQ, she brought the issue up to Luwin, and it turned out that hot water from a spring flowed _through_ the walls to warm its occupants. Her sonar scan backed his claim, there was indeed a hollow cavity, and thermal scans showed warm fluid coursing through. It was primitive, but surprisingly advanced for this era.

Guards she saw on her way to Eddard's office were plenty, holding similar reactions to the Greyjoy boy when they saw her. She never responded to the whispered insults or the sneers when she passed, why would she? As long none of them tried to attack, the relation between the IMC and the Starks was to be maintained.

Up the stairs and down a hallway, Ash saw the familiar door, Eddard Stark's office door. She came here once a day to report anything about her stay here. Anybody who seemed particularly violent, anything Eddard could help with to suit her needs. Topics that showed he was complying and assuring that the agreement was kept on his end.

Usually it was her alone being summoned, but today it seemed that Eddard preferred his own son bring her here. Essentially VIP delivery, which showed just how important this letter from King's Landing was.

Robb rapped on the wooden door. "Father, I come with Lady Ash as you requested," he said as he opened the door, revealing the Lord of Winterfell and his steward, Vayon Poole looking over documents at his side.

"Thank you, Robb, you may leave and continue with your morning with Ser Cassel in the yard," Eddard said with a nod and looked to her. "Come in, Lady Ash. I hope I didn't take you away from anything important."

The lord's son nodded and left, closing the door behind her as she walked in. "This morning's research hasn't shown the results I want, so you haven't interrupted anything," Ash replied. She liked to think she's scraping away the useless books, with the one she needed soon coming up. . . unless it was a pointless venture since the beginning, which would be more than disappointing.

Ned offered her a seat, which she declined, but she did move to stand in front of his desk. Eddard then picked up small strip of paper, one she knew was used to send messages via ravens.

"This is the reply from King's Landing to my request for your audience with the king," the lord said. He sounded almost relieved for some reason. He stretched it across and read aloud. "To Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North. After much deliberation within the king's court, we accept your request and shall give your resident, Ash of the IMC, an audience with his grace, King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name. However, certain information has come up that demanded my immediate attention, and shall provide you with the time of the audience at a later date within the month. With best regards, Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, and Hand of the King."

The man took a long breath after he finished reading the message and leaned back onto his chair. "It seems your request has paid off, Lord Stark," Ash said with a nod. Granted, it seemed like she'd need to wait a month until she knew when the meeting was, but it was progress.

Still, why did Stark look uncomfortable?

"It seems like it, it's just. . . why not give me the date in this message?" He shook his head. "Forgive me, I've slept little, my restlessness has caught up to me," Eddard said, dismissing his concern as just restless paranoia. "This is a message from Lord Jon Arryn, he's an honourable man and I'll ask him to aid you once you're there."

Ash only nodded, but Eddard was right, what was so important that this Jon Arryn had to postpone scheduling for a month? It was inconvenient, irritatingly so, but she'd just have to put up with it. She had enough books here to keep her busy during that time.

"And what of Oldtown?" she asked. "I assume you sent a message to them as well."

He nodded to her, then to Vayon to retrieve another strip of paper, similar in size as the one before. "This was their response," he said with a sigh as he read. "To Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. After some discussion with the conclave, the archmeasters and I respectfully reject your request to assist this resident of yours, Lady Ash of the IMC for too many reasons to write in this message, you may refer to Maester Luwin for what those are specifically. Sincerely yours, Archmaester Sandhu of the Citadel." He set the paper down on his desk.

That was it? Might as well have written 'No' and saved on the ink. "That is disappointing," she commented. They supposedly had more ancient texts, more books than any place Westeros, their denial can't be accepted.

"The archmaesters aren't known to be accepting of anything they don't see themselves," he quickly said, as though her comment was a threat. While it wasn't, it was telling of what they would do. "While the Citadel doesn't allow women into their libraries, I assume it's more of the fact they did not believe me of your nature." A sound explanation, as though rehearsed. He was prepared for their rejections, wasn't he? "After your meeting with the king and his council, I'm certain they'd change their answer."

 _'They'd better,'_ Ash thought. She didn't come all the way here and scan books just to be stopped so soon, the IMC certainly wouldn't take it sitting down. "I understand. The IMC and I will be patient about Oldtown." Eddard visibly relaxed just from that.

They still have an opportunity with King's Landing and their library, and considering it's the seat of power with its own history of 'magic', it should prove fruitful. . . or as fruitful as in Winterfell. Most of the books here spoke of magical examples like White Walkers, Children of the Forest, frost spiders, or even ice zombies, all of which involved north of the Wall.

Ash wasn't sure if the fact both current IMC bases being already there was good or not. If 'magic' was found north of the Wall, then why have they yet to experience anything? Marder was probably right, records of magic was probably nonsense, but they still needed to cover their bases.

Eddard gestured for his steward again, and handed him several more messages. "I've asked for the other noble houses in the north to send their books here for your research," he said. "Those that speak of history and magic as you requested. The first set should be here in two days, and all of them in a fortnight at the latest."

If Ash was honest with herself, she'd admit she was a bit surprised. The IMC would've surely demanded access to more books, but it seems Lord Stark actually took the extra step before they asked.

"Thank you, Lord Stark, I'll be sure to inform the IMC of your efforts to help." They already know, of course, everything she sees and hears, they see and hear. At least her handler does, and likely was already informing the top brass. And it looked like they had a response, as indicated by the message on her HUD. "I'm also to inform you that the first tribute will arrive in three days via land." The message said Samson, but she simplified it for his sake.

He widened his eyes a little, as though he forgot the IMC's end of the deal. "I'll be sure to inform the guards of this, thank you, Lady Ash." Probably best to avoid any accidents. "That is all I have for you, unless there's something you wish to add?" She shook her head. "Then that's all, thank you for meeting with me."

She only nodded slightly before turning, opening the door and leaving the office. She kept an eye on her motion-tracker, to 'see' what's happening inside the lord's office. Two blips were close to one another, and it stayed that way for almost a minute before moving apart. Seemed Vayon and Eddard had something to talk about; plans, deliberation, advice, or maybe even resistance from Poole's end? All she could safely assume was it had to be about her or the IMC, why else until only after she left?

 _'It doesn't matter,'_ she thought as she made her way back to Luwin's office to scan more books. The Westerosi people are complying, and she could tell Lord Eddard understood the danger IMC posed, he wouldn't try going against them, for his and his people's sake.

If he does, it was a bigger problem for Westeros than it was for the IMC.

* * *

"What in the name of fuck is that?" one of the people beside Ygritte exclaimed, one she would've said as well if she wasn't speechless at the sight of a high, black wall. Not as high as _the_ Wall, but it seemed just as intimidating.

"Aye, it looks like the stories are true, some crows decided to fucking make a castle here," another one, Barmir, said, and spat on the snow. "Fucking cunts, think they're making move on Mance?"

Tormund shook his head. "No, that's not it," he said as he moved closer to the tree line, still ways away from the black wall. "You remember the poor fucker who came to camp a few days ago, the one wailing at every sound of hammer hitting metal?"

Ygritte and the rest nodded, skittish was making light of the bastard. He kept twitching and fidgeting, terrified of even little rabbits that pop out of bushes. It was funny at first, but then it grew dull and had her think of what turned him that way.

One thing he kept saying did stand out, however. "He kept talking about a black wall," Ygritte said. Well, talked in the sense of repeating the same word while rocking his body, going to sleep only when someone punched him unconscious rather than shouting through the night about fire and smoke erupting form the ground. "You think he's talking about that thing?"

Again, Tormund shook his head. "We'd see more crazy fuckers like him if the place was this close to Hardhome." He eyed it suspiciously. "But I don't see other places with a black wall, so fuck if I know."

"It has to be the fucking crows," a man, Varik, said angrily. "Those cunts practically piss black, wouldn't surprise me if they make walls of black ice from it." His jape got its share of amused laughter, but not from Tormund, and certainly not from her, she was too focused on the black wall.

While it was distant still, it was interesting to note that there was nothing but shallow snow. No trees, boulders, or even a bush, it was completely devoid of nature for two-hundred or so meters. If these were crows, then they must've had thousands to clear the area so quickly without them knowing.

But what if Tormund was right, that they weren't crows? The first thing that comes to mind was White Walkers, but it couldn't be, and did it have something to do with the distant roars she heard over a month ago?

"I say we go back to Hardhome, get more men, then raze and loot this place," one suggested, which was fucking stupid considering the wall was practically wide enough to wrap around Hardhome a hundred times over. This wasn't something men with climbing spikes can-

"The fuck's that sound?" she wondered, hearing a strange rumble, then screeching metal. She nocked an arrow and searched for the source. It was the black wall, a segment of it opened with a distant audible creak.

Before anyone could even comment, something came through, several of them, in fact. Ygritte could see them slightly, if only just due to the distance. Large wagons moved to the tree line, not anywhere close to them thankfully, but she almost wished they did. Around her, she saw the people she was with had sunk low as she did the moment something emerged from the opening.

"No beasts," Tormund said lowly after those wagons disappeared into the forest. "Those things that came out, nothing was pulling 'em." Good, Ygritte wasn't the only one who saw that. "These aren't the crow fuckers, they're something else."

Varik shook his head, his balls gone and replaced with fear. "If it's not crows, it can only be one thing." Voices of agreement followed from equally stupid people.

Tormund looked at the man like he was a fool. "Don't be stupid, Varik, these aren't White Walkers. Those cold fucker like to move, they won't be making castles to live in." She agreed.

He didn't take too kindly to that. "And what exactly do you know about them, aye? We have to turn back back and tell Mance to make our way south before these fuckers come."

"We're not ready yet," Ygritte responded without tearing her eyes away from the black wall, bow nocked and ready in case of anything. "We go now, we might be fucked." She then looked to Tormund. "We can't leave this place unchecked."

Tormund Giantsbane huffed. "I'm telling you lot, these aren't White Walkers."

She shrugged. "All the more reason to find out." He made a light throaty sound, one of agreement he didn't want to admit; the proud bastard. "What do you want to tell Mance? We saw a black wall, shit ourselves, and ran away? He'd want us to find out more."

Another sound of agreement he didn't want to admit. He scratched his beard in thought on what to do, but one of them in their ten-man group didn't need as long to think on it.

"Are you two fucking insane?" Varik seethed. "We need to hurry south, not fuck with this."

"Scared already?" she mocked. His chest puffed up as he bristled. "Like I said, Mance will need to know about this, and he'll ask why we turned tail without knowing more." She gave a smile with an edge to it. "But don't worry, we'll let him know how it's because frostbite took your balls."

Varik reached for the axe on his belt, but she was quicker. A fast punch to his throat had him recoil, the hand that went for his weapon used instead to grip his throat, struggling for air. The men and women around them laughed at his expense, like a little babe trying to remember how to breathe.

"Alright you two, stop fucking about," Tormund said, though there was amusement in his voice still, which only added to the blistering rage of Varik. "Girl's got a point." That ceased any lingering laughter. "We go to Hardhome, we'll just come back here to scout this place." He shrugged. "Might as well do it now while the sun's just setting."

Dark enough to not be easily seen, but bright enough to not need torches. She knew Tormund would be swayed. There was more to it, however. "There's no guards or anything on top of the walls," Ygritte commented, having the Free Folk look at the peek of the twenty-meter wall. "No sentries, just statues."

They looked odd, as there were several of these large statues, with protrusions aimed in random directions. Especially the closest one that caught her eye, the large pipe on it was aimed directly at her group and hasn't moved since like the rest. It was rather eerie the more she thought about it.

"Perhaps the residents believe it's some protective being," one Free Folk said with small chuckle.

Tormund shook his head uncaringly. "Doesn't matter." He turned back to the group, eight of which were listening, while the ninth was glaring angrily at one young redhead. "Me, Ygritte, and Barmir will close the gap and see this new wall." Ygritte and another man nodded. "The rest of you stay here and signal us if you see anything we don't." Varik growled, but the rest nodded. Good enough. "Get ready you two, we'll be leaving now."

Ygritte nodded and set down her pack, only keeping her bow, quiver, and steel knife. The furs she wore, what they all wore, should be more than enough to keep them warm, and keep them hidden with the snow.

She looked to Tormund and Barmir, and saw them both ready just as she was. Tormund and she nodded to one another, he patted the two axes on his belt, and she gestured to the bow on her back.

"Stay behind the tree line and keep a close eye," he told the ones to remain, and looked to her. "You go first, your eyes will do us good here."

"Is that you trying to claim me, Tormund?" she mocked.

He gave an amused chuckle. "Let me tell you about my Sheila sometime, and you'll know why you can't even come close to fuck as good." Right, the bear he 'fucked'.

She only smirked a bit before moving ahead of them, and was only just about able to hear the soft steps in snow from the two behind her. The experience of living in this icy shithole showed on the three of them, sneaking upon this new wall.

A few minutes in, and she could see the black wall a bit clearer, thankful that Tormund chose twilight as a time bright enough to scout it. It didn't look it was made of ice, but rather like a sword or armor, made of steel, but that couldn't be right.

She stopped moving, as did the sound of soft steps in snow, and waited. No bird sound, meaning the group behind them didn't give the signal, but she felt something ominous, one when she felt she was being stalked. The snow around her was soft and even, no bumps or anything that showed anyone hiding beneath it.

She heard the soft crunch of snow as Tormund came close. "What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

"Nothing," she said, frowning. "That's the problem." Was it going to be this easy, even after those wagons came out? The gates couldn't have closed by themselves. She looked to the statues above, and seeing them closer showed they were also made of steel, but didn't move and was 'pointed' still towards the watchers Tormund assigned.

He grunted in understanding, however. "Keep moving, the sooner we finish this, the sooner we get back and drink soured goat's milk." She had to admit, soured goat's milk sounded pretty fucking good now.

Ygritte nodded and continued farther, but still felt that eerie sense of being watched. Thankfully they reached the wall without incident, and just as she thought, it was made of steel.

"What in the Gods' name. . ." Tormund voiced as he felt the metal with his hand, and backed way like it was cursed. He shook his head. "This is no kneeler or White Walker work." His face scowled, his hand anxiously tapping the head of his axe on his belt. "I'll be damned if it was those Thenn fuckers, either."

"I don't like this," Barmir said, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed bronze sword. "Let's get back and tell Mance, I'm done being here." She'd have mocked him for being scared as a babe, but she-

An owl's hoot sounded, it was the signal from the watchers!

Tormund drew both his axes and held ready, Barmir took out his bronze sword and snarled, just as she nocked an arrow and pulled the string. All three looked to different directions, expecting something to come to view, nothing did, but the hooting continued and grew louder as more joined.

Ygritte started hearing a strange sound, like the constant, labored breathing of an old man. As it grew louder, she tried to find where it was coming from. . . and she did.

She looked upwards to the source, just as a boot slammed into her face and stomped her head onto the snow, thankful it was soft enough to cushion her.

" ** _RAH!_** " Tormund and Barmir shouted as they ran to the attacker with their weapons ready to kill. While disoriented, Ygritte was still on the snow, slowly picking herself up to kill this fucker, she noticed the attacker wasn't holding a blade, nor any kind of weapon for that matter.

While she was on all fours, the attacker nimbly weaved around Tormund's axes, giving two punches to his bearded face and a kick to his gut, but it did nothing besides anger him more and increase his onslaught.

Barmir ran and lifted her by the shoulder as Giantsbane kept the attacker busy. "You go from the right," she told Barmir. "I'll stay on the left and shoot the fucker." he nodded and took position, careful not to be involved when Tormund's angrily swinging.

Now with a better look, the attacker was bizarre, to say the least. Wearing a kind of red clothes, with only small parts holding metal armor like those yellow vambraces. The oddest of it all was the full helm, it held a glass-like face that _glowed_ blue. Maybe Varik was right, these might be White Walkers.

"Would you fuck off already!?" the attacker, a woman, shouted in a vibrating voice. Something on her back spat flame and lifted her fast enough that had her knee cracked on his chin, sending him tumbling back on the snow and out. "Christ, what a nutter."

Ygritte grinned at her clear view with her drawn bow, and let the arrow fly true. It hit her helmet and bounced off, jolting her neck to the side. Ygritte's smirk died and ugly death.

"Ah, fuck!" the creature exclaimed as she shook her head, and looked to the redhead, it must've been angry. "That your best shot, huh? Too bad for you." The attacker turned to face her, just as she drew another arrow, this time aimed at her chest.

Before she could loose it, the attacker's back lit up and jumped, far higher than any human should. She tried to track it, but it gave her pause when it started running on the black wall with fire on its back like a demon.

Ygritte shouted as she loosed another arrow, but it missed and dinged off the wall. She was just about to nock another, but the attacker's back exploded, having her jump farther and faster, slamming her knees on Ygritte's chest and stealing the air from her lungs.

On top of her, the large blue eye moved closer to her face. " _Heh_ , Richter was right, you're all piss poor fighters," she said. Ygritte spat in her blue eye. The attacker drew something, which turned out to be a knife, and tapped her glass face. "Didn't hit my face since I'm wearing my helmet, but you did piss me the fuck off."

Ygritte smirked.

" ** _Rah!_** " she heard Barmir shout as he swung his sword down at the attacker neck, but he was too slow. She raised her yellow vambrace and stopped the sword with a resounding _clang!_ Instantly she stood up, and the knife in her hand flew, digging deep in Barmir's throat.

She pulled out the knife, watching as Barmir stumbled to hold the bleeding in his neck as best he could, but Ygritte knew it wouldn't. And all the bitch did was wipe her blade with the cloth of her thigh.

Ygritte tried picking herself up, looking at Tormund who's unconscious, at Barmir who's choking on his own blood, unsheathed her knife and lunged at the attacker from behind. Again, too slow.

The speed this woman turned was unnatural, and the heel-kick to Ygritte's chest broke more than a few ribs. "Stay down, love, I only need one of you alive, so don't tempt me," she said as Ygritte groaned and cradled her chest from the pain.

Distant battlecries was heard, and Ygritte saw the group they left make their way to them to help. Their swords, axes, and spears at the ready as they sprint as fast as they could, but they were still too far to even accurately shoot an arrow.

The woman in red sighed. "Bunch of wankers, I swear." She raised her hand and pressed something on her helm. "This is Sloane, send our guests a few rounds with the base's canon. . . Yes, I secured at least two living, potential sources of information, so feel free to open fire. . . Understood." The crazy woman looked to Ygritte. "Cover your ears, it's about to get loud."

She followed her sight towards the Free Folk's coming to help her, and, dare she admit, a little hopeful, but that quickly disappeared.

The sound she heard was hard to describe, it was like thunder, close enough she stopped cradling herself, clenched her eyes shut, and covered her ringing ears. Not a second afterwards the ground beneath her shook her bones, and another, and another, and another. . . then nothing.

Though her bones still felt like they were shaking, Ygritte let go of her hears and opened her eyes to see what happened. The people running to her, they were gone. She couldn't tell where, but she had a good idea on what happened to them.

Metal creaked, and she looked to see the metal 'statue' above moving back in place, its pipe smoking and a slightly glowing red in the darkened sky.

Even with a slight ring, she heard snow crunch as the woman she fought walk over to her until Ygritte was looking up at that glowing, blue face of hers. The woman shook her head, like some fucking parent, and all she could do was seethe.

"I'm sure you have alot to say," the bitch said. "Don't worry, I'll hear all of it later, but for now, love, goodnight."

The last thing Ygritte saw was the bottom of her boot, right before everything went black.

* * *

 **One thing I noticed while writing was how language was very different for each faction. You can almost tell if it was Ash or Eddard talking from the vocabulary used alone. I thought it was very interesting to learn.**

 **Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	7. Questions And A Letter

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 **Chapter 7**

 **This story may not be my most popular, but it is certainly the most fun for me to write. It has the serious and somber tone of GoT clashing with the modern language and outlook of today, which in of itself is entertaining to me.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **Westeros Has Their Magic And Fire Priests; They Better Hope It's Enough Against Giant, Titanium Beasts!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Questions And A Letter**

 _'God fucking damn it'_. Slone couldn't believe it. She was just sitting in her warm, cozy room, minding her own damned business on the IMC's pay before these Wildlings showed up near Olympus. While this was their second contact here, it really didn't mean anything, let the cannons turn 'em into paste, who cares?

But no, oh no, that'd be too convenient to expect. No, the top brass, aka fuck-heads, wanted a guide. A guide to where, though? Well, farther north, of course, and what better guide than the people who lived here? And now they had thousands to choose from because a situation came up.

With the Ark energy lighting up this planet like a miniature sun, it rendered all satellite scans and penetrative sensors properly useless. Thermal scans, energy sensors, and even fucking spectrometers couldn't pick up anything besides light. The thick clouds wouldn't even allow them to make a visual map of the area.

So here Slone was, sitting in a nice metal room that held two chairs, a not-so-normal table, and an unconscious, cuffed Wildling. After her fight with the bearded, crazy one, she opted to talk to the girl. She seemed. . . not as insane.

It's been two weeks since Slone first knocked her out, though most of that time the Wildling was spent in recovery under sedation after having been operated on for her a hefty concussion and several broken ribs before she was finally deemed fit to answer questions. And also fit to have a collar on to make sure she stays tracked and compliant.

She took off her helmet and latched it to her belt. "Fuck me," she mumbled annoyed, and looked at the camera in the top corner wall of the room. "Alright, I'm waking her up." A few officers were watching, and they have an interest in this discussion she's going to have.

Slone picked up a pale of warm water and splashed it on their prisoner. She woke up gasping, trying to stand or even roll to the side, but the chains immediately brought her back to her seat. Panting heavily, looking around warily and confused at the metal room before settling her eyes on Slone.

"Had a nice nap?" Considering how the Wildling tried lunging at her with a murderous shout, it was safe to assume she recognized her, but she was immediately forced back down again.

The girl looked at her arms, finally noticing the chains keeping her from moving too far, and somehow thought it was smart to begin shaking as much as she could to get herself free. The girl kept grunting and pulling, and while it was amusing, they had things to talk about.

Slone looked to the terminal on the bottom of her wrist and pressed a button onscreen. The girl screamed and convulsed as five-hundred volts of electricity coursed through her body. She kept it up for a second longer before letting go.

Now the girl slumped and panted tiredly after her little episode. Her head snapped to Slone, now with more of a hint of caution. In fact, she even took a look around the room, wincing slightly at the bright lights. Surely, she didn't know how she was zapped, but knew it had something to do with Slone.

"Now that you've calmed down," Slone began, set down the bucket and took the seat across from her. "Let's get down to business. You have a name?"

"None of your fucking bus-AHHH!" Another jolt of electricity from her collar shut her up.

Slone sighed as she let go of the trigger and gave the prisoner a few seconds to compose herself. "Listen, I'd love nothing more than to kill you like I did with your friends, but it's not up to me." She stood back up and leaned in over the table and gestured to her neck. "What you have there is a little something that makes sure you don't do anything stupid, as you clearly felt. So tell me your fucking name."

Oh, she didn't like that one bit, but if this girl spat on her face, Slone would electrocute her for a whole minute on the maximum safe setting. She sat there seething, seemingly trying to kill her captor with looks alone, but stayed quiet, even if she did move around her neck to take a feel on her new tight-fit necklace. Progress? Probably not.

Slone grabbed her head from her jaw and held her tight and brought her close to her face. "You don't want to tell me your name? Fine, because you're not leaving here alive until we get what we want." Her compliance, she didn't add yet. She shoved the girl to the back of her seat. "Let me show you something."

Pressing a few buttons on her wrist, the table between them came to life, and the captured Wildling gasped as the simple, grey, metal desk was something more. She could see her pupils dilate and her breathing become heavier as she watched the screen boot up.

When the screen finally settled, she gasped and the readout on Slone's wrist said the girl's heartbeat had risen sharply. The only reason she even took note of that was because the medics wanted to make sure Slone knew the state of their patient and she could hear them pestering her about it. Fucking hell.

On the table showed a drone's view from the air surveilling the large Wildling encampment of Hardhome. Slone thought she'd have to explain what they were seeing, but the look the girl's face said that wasn't needed.

"That's right, girl, motherfucking Hardhome. Yeah, we _know_ where all of you live," Slone said matter-of-factly as she leaned back in her seat. The chick didn't move her eyes, she kept shifting between every pixel as if it wasn't what she was seeing. . . or she was trying to understand _what_ she was seeing. It was hard to condition yourself that you're dealing with people who know nothing of tech.

And this girl knew a whole lot of nothing.

"Look here." She didn't, just kept watching the screen and looked like she was praying for an answer. "Hey, look here." Slone even snapped her fingers to get her attention, but it didn't even prompt a reaction. She leaned over and slapped her across the face, waking her up with a gasp. "Fuckin' look at me."

The girl's face lingered and kept looking at the wall Slone slapped her towards. As far as culture shock goes, this seemed pretty extreme. However, they had things to do and a few thousand Wildlings to consider.

For Fucki- "What are you?"

Just when she was about to zap her again, Slone instead looked to the anxious eyes of her prisoner. "Let me make it clear we're not from Westeros nor that knight bullshit. We're the IMC, an organization from elsewhere with a lot of abilities you people can't even dream to have. Like killing you all from a distance, or like this." She gestured to the view of Hardhome. "We can have eyes anywhere without you people even knowing." Almost anywhere. . . "I'd say how, but you won't be able to understand, and we don't have the months it'd take to explain all this shit."

She still looked confused, which would've been the result if she explained how their tech worked. Still, the girl switched from murderous to apprehensive, so that was a _form_ of progress. The Pilot could still see distrust and anxiety, but there was no simple solution to that.

She tapped the table top. "See your home here." The girl looked back to the screen. "We have weapons that can level the place to the ground with everyone from here similar to the ones that turned your friends into paste when they tried attacking. Razing Hardhome wouldn't take five minutes by what weapons we have here." And from space, but the _Malta_ isn't in position, but that could be easily changed. Since the girl looked stressed from the information, so that's all that mattered.

"What do you want from me?"

Ah, so now she's compliant? Maybe it was out of fear or realizing the issue of the situation, didn't matter as long as she answered questions. "Name," Slone said. "Let's start with your name. Then, we can get down to business."

"Wait, what of Tormund?" she suddenly asked. "The man I was with, what happened to him?"

Oh, the one she _didn't_ kill. "He's alive," Slone said as she pressed a few things on her wrist. For the second time, the girl gasped. The screen on the table switched from Hardhome to the nutjob with the red beard, strapped onto a stand with a straight jacket, shouting through the speakers were muted. Fucker's been doing this for days now after waking up.

"Tormund!" the girl shouted at the screen as she jolted forward. "Tormund, can you hear me!?"

Time to explain the concept of monitors. "He's can't hear you." The heavily breathing girl looked back to her. "Though believe me, we can hear him. Fucker won't stop shouting and swearing, even tried to bite one of the people trying to feed the crazy bastard." Then they started sending a MRVN. It scared him shitless, but the fucker can try biting down on metal as much as he wanted.

Crazy red woke up only a few days after his treatment for his minor concussion and a shattered jaw, and he hasn't shut up since. The surgeons should've kept that jaw broken, but he was a 'source of information'.

"He's fine and healed, we'll even let you talk to him." Slone turned off the table screen. "But we'll see to that later. Let's start with you telling me your name."

The girl just kept looking at the steel-colored table, looking pensive and thoughtful, breathing calmly and slowly, which was very off from what she'd seen her as. She was assessing the situation, clearly, and even weighing her options.

After a minute, she finally looked Slone. "Why the fuck would you capture me and Tormund?"

This bitch loved to go on tangents, doesn't she? "My superiors want something from your people."

She scoffed. "All us Freefolk have is fucking snow. What the hell would you want with us?"

True, they had a lot of snow and not much else. "We want your people's experience in this land to guide an expedition further north." The girl looked at her like she was insane, but it was certainly the idea that was.

Sending drones up there was a complete failure. At high altitudes it couldn't see through cloud cover, at lower altitudes the storms dropped them, that was if the long-range transmission link wasn't cut because, as the technicians said, 'unnatural amount electromagnetic interference likely emanating from the Ark energy'.

Long range comms over there was down, they lose the signals of their drones if sent or crash from a rogue blizzard, and the IMC can't safely send manned recon units due to it being unmapped, hostile territory. Hard to support or find out how progress went if you don't know where the fuck you were.

"You wish to go further north?" The tone matched well with the look and Slone nodded, then the girl shook her head in a surprising amount of resolution. "Absolutely not. You want to go there, you all can go on by yourselves. You won't find anyone Freefolk with a half a mind that would take you there."

Slone just shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to kill you." The girl stiffened. "If you're not going to help us, then you're useless trash that we should get rid off. Besides, I'm sure we can find someone more cooperative." The brass was gonna chew her out for this, but the situation called for it.

"You're not listening," the girl said. "No one wants to go farther north than we already are, we're going south for that very damn reason!"

Now it was Slone's turn to scoff. "For a girl who wanted to bite my head off, I'm surprised you're afraid of a wee bit of extra cold." True, it was getting colder since this planet's winter was setting in, and it was understandable that these Wildlings, or Freefolk as it were, would venture south for warmer air and animals to hunt.

"The cold?" The way she said it like Slone was an idiot had her pause. "You think we're running because of the cold? The cold is merely _their_ wake."

Okay, now Slone needed a few seconds to unpack whatever the hell she just said. First off, if this girl wasn't completely bullshitting them, the cold was least of their worries. The second bit of info, again, if she wasn't bullshitting, the cold was an effect of whatever. Third, the 'whatever' was a 'their', a group.

"The hell are you talking about?"

The girl tilted her head, visibly confused. "You don't know what's happening here, do you?" Slone didn't answer, really couldn't do anything besides frown. "The White Walkers, they're back."

And just like that, the room descended into silence. The two staring at each other until the first to speak, and there were military commanders watching this.

"The fuck're you on about?"

Clearly wasn't the reaction she was expecting. "The White Walkers," she articulated. "They're making their way south with their army of wights. How could you not know this?"

This was. . . Slone took in a calming breath. "No, we don't know about whatever this 'White Walker' and wight rubbish." Honestly, she was expecting something serious, instead, it was a zombie story.

"Rubbish?" she repeated angrily as she tried getting up. "Those things forced us all to abandon our homes, turned our dead into their soldiers, if you fucking think-AHHHH!"

Slone kept up the shock for a few seconds longer before she was satisfied that she got her point across. As the redheaded girl breathed heavily with newfound anxiety and a reminder of who she was dealing with, Slone stood up from her seat with an annoyed sigh.

"Alright, so here's what I decided," she said, the panting girl gave her an angry, cursory glance. "I'm going to leave the room, leave you to your thoughts for a good twenty minutes, and when I get back, you better fucking start taking this seriously. If you don't. . ." Slone shrugged and left the room to a very angry redhead.

Once the door clicked shut, she groaned. She didn't like working with tossers, and this girl looked to be a massive one. Looking to the side, she saw the four officers that were in the adjacent room come out to the same hallway.

"So, that was interesting," one of them said, some middle-aged woman she didn't know the name of. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't wights a fancier name for zombies?"

Another officer nodded. "And I think White Walkers were part of this planet's folklore, I remember reading something about it when I was browsing some of the documents the IMC envoy sent back." Fuck's sake, Slone was right, it was a fairytale. "What say you, Pilot?"

Did they want her opinion? It was easy. "I think it's a load of horseshit." She received sounds of agreement and looked to the female officer, a colonel. "But I think we can use this."

The officer looked interested. "That is assuming she isn't lying through her teeth." The tag on her uniform said her name was 'A. Bello'. Colonel Bello, as it were. "But you've seen how she reacted, I think she believes it, which in turn our visitors believe it as well." The three others nodded with them. "How are they, by the way? Any more. . . _incidents_?"

The officer closest to her reached for his datapad. "No, ma'am," he said as he looked through the feeds. "If they've maintained position this long, it would be safe to assume our warning shots kept them at bay."

Slone unlatched her helmet and donned it and waited for her interface to boot up. Once it did, she immediately went into the reports and security feeds. . . yep, a few thousand Freefolk were still maintaining the tree line in a semi-circle around Olympus.

"Doesn't look like they'd try to push, other than that one time they tried sneaking in at night a few hours ago," Slone commented. "Question is, what're they waiting for?" If they were forced to fight, then that really lessened the IMC's chances of an amicable relationship with these people.

Then again, they did blast their scout party and infiltrators into nothingness. They'll just have to use the 'not my fault' protocol.

"Pilot," Colonel Bello called. "Considering General Marder's not going to accept this zombie story, we're going to need the girl to be compliant soon, before our guests turn from a local asset into hostile guerrillas."

Yeah, she knew what Bello meant. With the lack of the full force from the IMC back home, they're better off not making enemies that'd prove to be a pain. Long story short, they'd _try_ to keep things cooperative.

If it can't or someone did something stupid, then fuck it. They've got the ordinance to spare.

* * *

The update wasn't exactly unwelcome, if anything it was just bizarre, Ash thought. _'The idea to recruit Wildlings is certainly a viable option.'_ Perhaps not exactly reliable when gathering intel, but local experts were better suited when their usual methods failed.

Though it would be an issue if any lord of the seven kingdoms found out. Considering they were going to make their way south, and the massive fortress wasn't something you forget.

"And so, the Targaryens resorted to inbreeding and incest to maintain their blood and magic, though we're uncertain how effective it was," Maester Luwin said as she read through a book about magic preservation. "Though some of the maesters believe it was simply ended as a family tradition."

If it was true and it's been going on for centuries, then it's shocking that they weren't a family famed for being afflicted with countless birth defects. Mad King Aerys seemingly early onset dementia was a good example of the lack of genetic diversity.

"Are. . . are you really listening?"

"I can read and listen at the same time with perfect memory to both," Ash said as she flew through the pages. It was a bit of a boon after becoming a computer, certainly had its benefits. "Going on a tangent, what more can you tell me about the history of these White Walkers?"

The question seemed to have surprised him. "Lady Ash, such topics are beneath you." Not when it came up with the questioning from Slone.

"Humor me, Maester Luwin. The topic of folklore interests me." Because it has come up as a topic to read into before convincing Wildlings to cooperate with the IMC. "It has come up in discussion with my superiors, and they tasked me with finding out more."

"Through this 'radio' you spoke of?" She nodded. "It truly fascinates how you're able to communicate with your lord without us knowing without the use of ravens. If I'm to speak honestly, I often suspect it was all a lie." He gestured to the scanner. "Though I have more reason to believe you than doubt."

At least she was trusted by someone, and luckily that person was the most trusted advisor to the lord. "Thank you, Maester Luwin, but back onto the topic of White Walkers, it would aid me and the IMC greatly if you shared your knowledge."

He still looked unsure. "I'm not sure considering it's mostly tales told by old septas to scare children into behaving." He sighed. "Though I believe it's a mistake to sidetrack, I will tell you all that you wish to know."

She matched his skepticism, Ash didn't want to stop her research just for this fiction about zombies. "I remember only that their latest sighting was thousands of years ago, could you expand on that?"

"They're last _supposed_ sighting, no maester can tell you for certain whether they even existed or not. Some of us are convinced the tales of the Others, or White Walkers as they're called, were merely just a fabrication or exaggeration of how the Long Night was."

"Then why does the Wall exist, if for not the original purpose to keep them out?" It was the reason it was created, wasn't it?

Luwin shrugged, his chain links clinking to one another. "Hard to say. Some even theorized it was a natural occurrence, for how can someone build such a structure in their same lifetime?" Huh, he had a point, didn't he? Even if the IMC would need billions of credits to recreate something like it and millions of workers to finish making it. "While I do not believe in the Others, I don't believe such a structure erupted naturally."

"You believe it's manmade?"

He nodded. "The odds of it occurring is slim to impossible, but I thought at least sharing the theory. History dictates it was Bran the Builder who did so, and I believe so." It was true, something with those qualities cannot be made naturally. "Back to the Others, you'll find people split between believing they never existed, and people who say they're extinct, particularly among maesters." Not extinct on some accounts. "Stories say they rode on large spiders, wield weapons of ice, and where they go, the biting cold follows them. Fairly romanticized, I tell you."

Ash could see why, there was no situation where some being could control the weather, such fiction would fall under magic, which in itself was nonsense. Still, while Luwin was understandably hesitant to share fairy tales as 'research', he was being helpful with the new situation that came up and made sure to send the recorded audio to Olympus.

"I assume you have books that go further into detail of this?"

"I have a few, but they're as detailed as I just described." That's unfortunate, but on this topic, she didn't really mind. "I wouldn't dare taint my library with such drivel. Though perhaps when you visit King's Landing they'd have more than a few."

Ash would rather not devote precious time to stories. "So, they are more along the lines of magic than history, in your own opinion, anyway?" He nodded. "And what of history, what does it have to say?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "No history books with a reliable writer spoke of them without extensive use of metaphors and heroic tales. Hence why some more skeptical maesters don't take their words as fact, and often dismiss the Others as just another metaphor of when winter was deadlier than natural."

Exactly! Why the hell would Slone or any of the IMC brass give this any interest? It's pointless, but if they expand their knowledge on the topic, then they could make educated moves when dealing with Wildlings who're shouting 'White Walkers!'.

A knock on the door interrupted their most _non_ -illuminating knowledge, prompting the maester to give an annoyed grunt for being bothered when lecturing. It was well within the afternoon, so it couldn't have been the children, their schooling was already done hours previously.

When the door opened, it was the lord's son, Robb Stark. "Maester Luwin, Lady Ash, I sincerely apologize to interrupt your lecture and research, but my father strongly requests Lady Ash's presence in his solar," he said with a respectful bow to both.

"Is this about the letter?" Luwin asked, to which Robb nodded. Among the many of the maester's duties, one of them dealt with handling letters to the lord. An interesting thing to learn that when she was learning in Luwin's study with the maester when she was called about a letter Lord Stark had received, it would've been in his possession for over an hour.

What he was doing with that hour, likely deliberation, rewording, or even preparing himself to lead into the next step of this initiative. He was afraid of war with them, that was clear and rightfully so.

After the envoys dropped off their tributes via Samson, they had to go through Castle Black, which each envoy said was far more fortified than the last visit. While a show of possible retaliation, the IMC didn't care, they knew it wasn't going to really be a threat, so Marder allowed it.

He knew that all it meant was that Eddard Stark understood the dangers they posed and readied for contingency, that was if that threat was more than just reading a book in a cramped office. The best answer to that threat when you're so overwhelmingly outgunned was compliance, and it made things easier for both sides. . . mostly.

Ash stood up from her seat, set down the thousandth book she read through since last week. Luwin's collection was getting rather thin, only boosted by the amount of literature sent from Stark's vassal houses. "I'd like to resume our conversation on a later date, Maester Luwin," she said.

He only nodded with a hum as she exited the office and closed the wooden door behind her. After the month she'd been here, Luwin was treating her as though she was any human. Less could be said about Winterfell's other denizens, but they never really had to deal with her almost twenty-four hours a day to get used to her.

She looked to the young lord, who flinched slightly as her hollow sockets locked onto him. "I'll follow your lead, young lord," Ash told him.

All the boy did was nod and turn to lead the familiar path, another royal escort to make sure no one dared try to stop them. She had a guard lead her to Stark's office once, the idiot actually took the long route in an effort to show her off to his friends or children.

As far as she knew, that man was now guarding the outhouses for the rest of his life.

Needless to say, Lord Stark wasn't pleased with this and made to not only set an example of when being foolish, but also to send his son when she needed to be told of something important. The only other time he sent his son was the reply from King's Landing, this one should be no different.

Something was out of place, however, one that had her a bit paranoid. "Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow have better things to do?" Ash asked, looking around as she didn't see the two she usually saw Robb with. If this was an ambush. . .

"You could say that," Robb said, not turning to look at her. Probably helps to make him think he was talking to a human. "Jon's in the yard practicing more of his swordsmanship, likely to keep himself busy before taking the black. Theon is. . . well, meeting with a girl in Winter Town." Fucking, is clearly what he meant.

"Your half-brother intends to join the Night's Watch?" She didn't read much about this organization, but she did know few nobles from high ranking families actually allowed their sons to join. Maybe it was a bastard thing?

"He does, he finds it an honorable decision, though I can't imagine why after what we'd seen." Did he mean of the IMC or of the ragtag group that was the Night's Watch, maybe he even meant both? "Regardless, I'm certain he'd make something of himself there."

It was a glorified labor camp filled with prisoners, there was little Jon Snow could do to make himself of anything. When she asked Luwin about this brotherhood, she told him of what it became in recent years, though he was quick to mention that all the banners would come if there was more trouble than the Night's Watch could handle, so they weren't completely without contingency.

That's also what made things interesting. _'So many castles along the walls, fortifications to hold thousands of soldiers, and only three are currently occupied.'_ Luwin didn't say anything on that, their drones have. _'Why so many if not to defend and police the border from something?'_

Reanimated corpses? Of course not. Oversized, likely mutant arachnids? Doubtful. Humanoid ice wizards? Borrowing from Kane, fuck no. However, was it to keep the Wildlings away? It's certainly an overkill and overpriced method that clearly doesn't stop them since there's still Wildling raids south of the Wall.

The best answer that she could think of that it was another Mad King Aerys moment, where some fool employed people by the thousands, if not millions, to build for whatever reason due to some mental breakdown or illness. She could imagine it as some lunatic failed attempt to stop the cold, even.

Whatever the case, the Wall has become a bit of mystery in creation, and she was half tempted to leave it as some freak natural occurring wonder.

"We've arrived," Robb said, confirming what her map showed, and knocked on the door. "Father, I've brought Lady Ash as you've requested." He waited a few seconds before hearing a 'let her in', then stood aside and opened the door for her. "Until next time, Lady Ash."

Politeness, nothing more, but she nodded to him anyway and walked through the doorway, the young lord closing it behind her. Like in her usually meetings, Lord Stark was present in his office, Vayon Poole standing off to the side in a supportive stance to his lord.

So why had it felt off? "You seem unwell, Lord Stark," Ash said as she stood in front of his desk, rescinding the offer to take a seat, as he always did.

The man swallowed hard. "You'd be correct, Lady Ash," Stark said. "I received a letter from King's Landing not two hours ago, and the news isn't fully what I expected nor wished."

Well, if the answer was what she thought it was, then he'd be very right to seem sick and grim. "Lord Stark, I hope you understand the implications if my permission to King's Landing's libraries was den-"

"It doesn't have anything to do with your permission to the capital's libraries, as to my knowledge your access is still allowed." If her request wasn't retconned, then there wasn't much of an issue.

That didn't stop her from being concerned, however, why else would he call her up? "Then I fail to see the problem."

Eddard took a heavy breath. "Lord Jon Arryn is dead." Was that it?

"My condolences, Lord Stark," she said with a respectful bow. "From what you told me, he was a good man." And the supposed liaison between her and the king. Now she understood why his letter involved her.

"Thank you," he responded, not really giving weight, likely still grieving for this person. "There's more to it, however. The same letter also mentioned that King Robert is personally touring his kingdom, eventually coming here in a month's time."

That was an interesting development, but not exactly concerning. "I understand your reasoning in calling for me as the late Jon Arryn was to aid me in my research, but why this news of the king?"

The lord frowned, looking thoughtful of the next few words. "I understand that you and your people come from a different society." That's putting it lightly. "But here, the king needs to be respected even by visitors."

Again, this confused her. "I have no intention of mocking him, if that's what you're implying."

He shook his head. "It's not that." He looked her firmly in the sockets, his face firm and unyielding, an interesting contrast to his son. "I understand fully the danger your people could bring upon Westeros, that your weapons and machinery outdo our own armies." Marder was right, he _did_ understand. "What we discussed with Lord Marder at your outpost involved some veiled threats of war from your people towards mine, and that won't end well with someone as proud as King Robert."

"We have no intention for war, Lord Stark," she replied. "As long as the agreement is held, there will be none."

Stark nodded. "And I intend to keep it that way, but these people are different, they haven't seen what I've seen." He leaned in a bit closer. "Which is why I need to ask you for a few concessions."

"And what would that be?" If it was too much, then there was a problem.

He sighed again. "You need to act with etiquette befitting someone subservient to the royalty. Can you do that?"

Now she understood what he meant. Sacrifice some sense of independence, no more hidden threats, and prostration. She knew what the answer was without even asking Marder because he already sent her his answer and command.

Really, they'd allow anything as long as the IMC got what they wanted quicker.

* * *

 **Deleted scene**

 **The girl tilted her head, visibly confused. "You don't know what's happening here, do you?" Slone didn't answer, really couldn't do anything besides frown. "The White Walkers, they're back."**

 **Slone was taken aback. "Why you gotta make it a race thing?"**

* * *

 **I regret nothing!**

 **Reviews are very much appreciated. You can even tell me how bad my joke was.**


	8. Regrets And Arrangements

.

 **Chapter 8**

 **Out of schedule, but I had to.**

 **Been a while? Well. . . yeah, let's not prolong this more than it needs to. Let's get to reading!**

* * *

 **You Can Hear The Thrums Of Magic And Curses of The Night; But Also The Hums Of Nuclear Power And Burning Cordite!**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Regrets And Arrangements**

"Fancy meeting you here, lass," Tormund said. "I'll be honest with ye', we're not exactly in a good situation at the moment." He shuffled in his bindings for good measure in an almost sarcastic fashion.

If things weren't so deep in shit, Ygritte might've even smiled at the foolish joke. "What did they do to you?" she asked, wondering if it was anything like earlier with that red bitch. _'I'm going to kill her the first chance I get.'_ Surviving after would be convenient, but there was nothing convenient here.

Tormund shrugged, bound in a kind of bed that had him stand, cloth bindings hugging him close, making his arms go around himself, though the myriad of belts should've been more than enough. Though she had steel cuffs tying her to her seat, though she was still hesitant to do anything with this damn collar on her.

"Well, for one, I remember that fucker's knee hit my chin," he growled out, gesturing to the red bitch behind her, watching the two of them intently in front of a large mirror that nearly spanned the entire wall. "It fucking hurt, then the next moment I knew, I woke up in a bed with chains holding my arms." That sounded much better than what she went through. "Now I feel ling my jaw crack, but I only felt drunk when I woke up, no pain, no blood, nothing." Another thing to add on how these people were something else entirely. What kind of healing abilities do these people have? "That was a few days ago."

Ygritte narrowed her eyes. "I woke up only yesterday." From boot slamming onto her face to being woken up by a bucket of water, questions, and pain that coursed through her body. Even after the bitch had her way, they threw her into a cell she couldn't leave. They gave her food and water, and it seemed like they tended to Tormund's injuries.

Now that she thought about it, she knew for a fucking fact her ribs were shattered before the red bitch knocked her out, but now felt little in terms of pain. Whoever these people were, they could be either demons or fucking wizards, neither being good.

Tormund snorted. "I must've had it easy, then." He looked to the woman behind her. "I'm going to kill you for what you did as soon as I get out, you know that, right?"

Now it was the woman's turn to snort. "Ey? Didn't work too well the first time, did it? Nor for the tossers you people were with," she said with a smirk that had Ygritte's blood boil. The red bitch then gestured to her. "Though your little friend here can fill you in on what happened."

Giantsbane and turned to her with a frown. "What happened to Barik and the others?"

She licked the inside of her teeth, trying to find the proper words to describe what happened, the massacre that fell upon them from the statues and woman both. Gods, it was hard to try making something from nothing.

"They're dead, Tormund," she finally said. "The red bitch killed Barik with a knife to his throat." Tormund's face soured further at the loss of one of his clansmen. "The others. . . I don't know how to describe." An idea came to mind, a memory. "They disappeared in an eruption of fire and smoke." That broken fool who came to camp. . . now she understood.

And it looked like Tormund realized that, too.

"Fuck." She couldn't have said it better herself. The bearded man breathed heavily and slowly, then turned to their captor. "Alright, the fuck do you want with us?" Ygritte internally cringed, remembering full well why she kept them alive, almost wished she'd have been killed instead, though that seems to be still possible. "You killed everyone but kept us breathing, I'll be damned if it wasn't for the goodness of your heart."

The woman chuckled cruelly and made her way to them, leaning onto the table between the two Freefolk. "Alright, Mr. Tormund, I'm pretty sure you can tell we aren't from around here," she said, drawing something from her hip, a kind of metallic tool, probably? Whatever it was, she stuck the end of it onto Tormund's forehead, and both of them stared at each other. "Like right now, I can blast a hole through your head and paint the wall behind you with your brain. Bang!" she shouted at the end, and drew away what was apparently some bizarre weapon and placed it back into its sheath. "Just like that, and just as easily."

Tormund, in a surprise even to Ygritte, laughed. "Are you as stupid as you look?" he finally said, wiping away that smile off of the woman's face. "I fucking know you people aren't from here. You sent in men made of metal to feed me after I nearly bit off one of your people's fingers. You have a massive wall made of steel." He gave another laugh. "You don't need some milksop theatr-" **BAM!** "- _AGH_!"

Ygritte yelped herself as a loud bark reverberated around the metal room, one of her ears was even ringing. She had to give her a second before she looked at Tormund, her stomach sunk at the sight of the blood running down the right side of his head.

"Ah, fuck!" he screamed as he tried wiggling out of his bonds. She almost breathed a sigh of relief to know he was alive, then took a closer look at where the blood was coming from. His upper cheek was bleeding from a deep cut that wasn't there before, and a chunk of his right ear was missing, and it was pouring out blood. "Seven _fucking_ hells!"

"It seems you forgot who you're dealing with, you fuckwit." Ygritte turned to see the woman smirking, the weapon that was in its sheath now out and smoking from the hole at the end of it. "I'm the person responsible for blasting your little party into paste on the snow. You think I won't kill you now?"

She walked closer to Tormund, who was visibly staring at her with hot fury, the belts and cloths tying him into place being the only reason he hadn't jumped out to strangle the woman. When she got close enough, he roared and tried to jump onto her, but the bonds held and kept him back.

"Now, here's the thing," she said as she comfortably leaned on the table once more, ignoring the curses sent her way. "If you don't quiet down, the next one is going right between the eyes."

"Fuck you, whore!"

The woman sighed and drew her weapon once more. This time, though, she pointed it at Ygritte, and she thought she'd be forgiven for feeling a little panicked, though she refused to give the bitch the pleasure and made sure she snarled her way. Tormund, however, quieted down, seemingly more content on breathing angrily than shouting.

"There we go," the bitch said. "Let's start over, shall we?" She received no response, though the one that could've been made by Tormund would've been more from before.

The only door the room had opened, drawing the attention of the three of them, and in came another older woman, wearing greyish clothes, decorated with several emblems and symbols. Though perhaps one of the more interesting features was her dark skin, and how the red bitch sighed irritably and stood in the presence of the frowning woman.

"You've overstepped your boundaries, mercenary," the woman said.

"Colonel Bello," their captor greeted. "I was only trying to control the situation before things got out of hand." Her mocking and smug tone left her, and Ygritte couldn't help but think it was because she was addressing an elder or a superior of some form.

This Colonel Bello looked to Tormund, scowled, and turned back to the red bitch. "As far as I can see, it was you who went out of hand, Slone." If that was her name, then Slone looked less pleased with the response. "You are dismissed."

"Oi, this is my contract!" Slone shouted angrily.

"I said you're dismissed, Pilot!" When Slone was about to reply, Bello made sure it didn't come out of her mouth. "One more word, and you'll be dismissed from the project altogether." Slone bit her own tongue. "Am I understood?"

With clenched teeth, she said, "understood, ma'am." And stiffly left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Colonel sighed and massaged her temples, then turned to Tormund. "I apologize for Slone's actions, she is always heavy-handed in her methods." When she reached to press something on her wrist, Ygritte instinctively braced herself, but no pain came. "I need a medic sent to my position, one of the prisoners have been injured and is bleeding."

Surprisingly, the thing on her wrist responded. " _Understood, ma'am, a medic will be there shortly._ " And then it clicked into silence. What in all the hells were these people?

"My name is Asha Bello," she introduced warmly. "I hold the rank of Colonel around here, and I was assigned as the head of the ground expedition force of the IMC, and we need your assistance."

What crazy world have they entered? "You need our assistance?" Ygritte seethed. "You killed the people were with, tortured me for answers, and you ask us for help!?"

All the woman did was nod calmly. "What you went though could hardly be called torture, though I do understand and I'm sorry for your losses, but I must point out that your people were the ones who attacked us first, we had to defend ourselves."

"Is that what you call it, defending yourself?" They had walls of steel, and somehow destroyed the group that they came in with.

"We interacted with your people before, sent an envoy with food, water, and shelter to one of the Freefolk camps in hopes to build a relationship." Her tone went angry. "They killed our envoys, stole the goods, and attempted to raid our outpost to steal and rape. We didn't allow them, and we refuse to allow for that same mistake again."

Annoyingly, Ygritte couldn't really refute what she said. Many of her people would do what she experienced, and even more irritatingly, could understand why they responded to their scout party with the slaughter.

"The party you came in with, we weren't sure if you would have reported back to your village and brought back a raiding party, or you were simply curious wanderers, we couldn't take the risk." The door opened once more, and in came a man with a pack, one that held a red cross in a white circle. "That's the medic, though in your terms he'd be a healer." She narrowed her eyes on Tormund. "I trust you'd allow him to treat your injury with little trouble."

Tormund held her gaze for a few seconds, then grunted and turned to the side for the 'medic' to have a better view. The man nodded and approached calmly, and started his work. Opening his pack, he brought out several bottles and even smaller packs filled with cloth and bandages.

"What do you want with us?" Giantsbane asked as the healer began cleaning the blood.

"We need your help in guiding a scouting party up north. As the only ones we can count as professionals in the area, we are turning to you for help as guides."

"And who is this 'we' that is asking this from us?"

"We're the IMC," she said, and she didn't even wait for them to ask. "We're an organization of very advanced means, as I'm sure you can tell." That was putting it fucking lightly. "The IMC is a sort of merchant guild, so to speak, a very damn wealthy one that regularly hires specialists like Slone, powerful people who can take down groups alone."

"With all that, with all the damn magic you people can do, the metal men, the bottles of light, the fucking weapons that can make holes in people, and you still need our help?"

"You would be correct."

Tormund scowled, likely thinking the same thing Ygritte said yesterday to that Slone woman. "What you're asking for is fucking impossible." He winced when the medic applied some sort of salve. "The White Walkers roam that side of the north, their army of the dead with them wherever they go."

"I said the same to that Slone bitch," Ygritte added with a scowl. "I told her no Freefolk with half a mind is willing to go back to what we're escaping from."

Bello hummed. "I understand your concerns, but we still must venture north on an expedition, White Walkers or not," she said. "However, the higherups are those who demand results and will take action to mitigate risk should the result be lucrative." She gestured to the two of them. "And that's what you two and your people are."

Tormund, in an almost ironic manner, chuckled but hissed when the healer began to stitch the wounds. "So, you don't just want us, but our people as a whole, is that it?" he said, smothering down a grunt as the suturing began on his upper cheek. "And they call me fucking crazy."

"The IMC will compensate you and your people for their efforts." She shrugged. "Whatever it is you need. Gold? Jewels? Infinite supply of food? The IMC has the means to give you anything you need."

Giantsbane almost chuckled at that as well, but instead hissed as the needle stabbed him again. "Gold and jewels? You think us some pompous little milk-drinkers from the south? You can take those and shove them up your ass. As for the food, won't be much good to us when we're dead and become an army for the White Walkers."

"So the problem is these White Walkers of yours?"

The healer made his final stitch and cut the thread he was using, then he bandaged it with some pure white cloth and stuck it to his ear and cheek. He looked to Bello and left when he got his nod.

"Better?" she asked.

Tormund stretched his jaw and neck to test the healer's work, barely wincing at his treated wounds. "It'll do," he answered, then shifted to glare at Bello. "And yes, I'd fucking say the White Walkers are the big fucking problem."

"Then how about we remove them from the equation?"

"What now?"

Bello rolled her eyes. "How about we make sure they're not a problem?"

Ygritte laughed, which brought the attention of Colonel to her. "The White Walkers can't be killed. Believe me, we tried," she said. "Our swords, arrows, and axes shatter like glass as soon as they touch them. No normal weapon can kill them. As for the wights?" She scowled. "You can slice them, spear them, fucking dismember them, but they'll still keep coming, the only way to kill one is with fire."

All the older woman did was nod in understanding. "Fortunately, we have many weapons in our arsenal to deal with wights, then." Her statement was vague, making Ygritte unsure of what she even meant. "As for the White Walkers themselves, I'm certain we can deal with them."

"You're either deaf or just plain stupid," she responded angrily. " _Nothing_ can kill them."

Bello didn't look impressed. "Do you think we're normal people?" Ygritte didn't answer, though it seemed to be an answer of its own. "The weapon injured Tormund is called a gun. It's a standard issue weapon that launches small metal arrows called bullets that travel five times the speed of an arrow."

Ygritte would have called her insane, but she saw it herself how that Slone woman brought that 'gun' up, and essentially created a bleeding hole of Tormund's ear. She gulped. Maybe she's right, these people were demons.

"What's more," Bello continued. "We have larger versions of said gun that fire larger bullets at a much faster speed for our foot soldiers, and massive ones that turns groups of enemies into dust-" She snapped her fingers. "-like that. I'm sure the young woman here knows what I speak of." Ygritte did, by the gods she did. "Perhaps you're right, maybe these White Walkers are immortal even to our weapons." She leaned onto the table, and looked between the two Freefolk with a face full of determination. "But if anyone has the ability to kill them, it's the IMC. If we don't, then we will develop a way, I can promise you that." She stood back up straight. "Your best bet in fighting these things is us, and we're not willing to do it for free. Help us, and we'll help you in turn." She nodded to them. "I will leave you to talk it out, and come back in a few minutes." And made her way to leave.

When the door shut behind her, Ygritte only had one word to say. "Fuck."

* * *

Slone watched the through the one-way mirror as Colonel Bello left the interrogation room, leaving the two in silence as they deliberated within their heads on her words. She had to admit, that woman had a way with words and effective dramatic theatre. The door to the room opened, and in came the colonel herself, looking a little smug about the whole thing.

"Think they bought into it?" Slone asked, looking back to their prisoners.

"Absolutely," Colonel Bello answers, watching the same two with hands behind her back. "These White Walkers of theirs, they certainly talk like they've seen them." Slone gave her a queer glance, which had Bello scoff. "Don't give me that look, Pilot, I'm only telling you what I sensed from their tone."

Slone grunted. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as your plan worked in having them accept your 'helping hand', that is."

"They will. If these White Walkers are that big of a deal for them, whatever the hell it actually is, then after all they've seen, they'll know we're the best way to them dealt with." She scoffed again. "I thought your use of the pistol was too much, but it helped make things clearer for them."

Honestly, Slone was just pissed and shot the redheaded fucker to shut him up. All's well that ends well, she supposed. "So now we wait, but what if they don't ally with us, though?"

She shrugged. "Put a bullet in their heads."

* * *

"What're you thinking?" Tormund asked her.

Ygritte didn't know what to think. Fucking Mance and his scouting missions, she should've just let Tormund do it alone. "I think we're fucked if we do, and fucked if we don't." Tormund grunted in agreement.

They were alone for now, but she had a feeling the next time they had to have a proper answer. If they denied their offer, she had a feeling it was their last. At least that Colonel Bello woman was friendlier than that red bitch, but that didn't mean much, she wasn't the real leader here, perhaps something like an elder of sorts.

"Like she said, these people here are far from normal. At least, not the normal we know," Ygritte said. Hells, above them were some glass shafts that bathed the whole room in white light brighter than any torch. "Maybe. . ." Damn it. "Maybe they can do it." The words _tasted_ sour in her mouth.

Tormund looked her oddly. "You mean kill the Walkers and their army of the dead?" She nodded. "They might." For some reason, that surprised her to know that the big, stubborn oaf agreed with her. He saw most of what she saw, and that was more than enough. "Fucking weapons that make holes in people's ears, and they've got bigger shit, as well, you say?" By the gods yes, they did, and it showed on her face. "Then yes, I think they can deal with those cold fuckers."

"But if we take the deal. . ."

"Then we'll have them to deal with instead," Tormund finished. "You're right, though call me insane, but I'd rather let one problem deal with the other than have two aimed at us." He shrugged, or something close to it with all the bindings holding him in place. "You'll have to be really convincing to make me believe these people are worse than an army of walking corpses trailing behind us to slit our throats." He sighed. "It's not up to us, though."

"Mance?" she asked, and he nodded.

"You think they're keeping us alive from the goodness of their hearts?" He spat to the side.

Thinking about it some more, Giantsbane had a point. "They want to use us to get Mance to help them."

"Aye, that's what I'd wager. Or at least an introduction and give him the same offer they gave us." He ground his teeth. "At this point, I don't know if we should take it or not?"

Ygritte felt as defeated as her elder. These people, the IMC, might have the capability to deal with the Others, but might be a problem on to themselves, it was just difficult to gauge how they can be worse? They didn't look like conquerors, they just want something and it isn't land, or at least, not yet.

"Let Mance decide," she finally said. "He's the one who makes these choices, not us. If they want to make a deal, let them do so when surrounded by an army of Freefolk at Hardhome."

He hummed, looking fairly convinced at the idea. "You're right about one thing, this is up to Mance." He stayed quiet for a few seconds longer. "I've been awake for a while, long enough to know for a fucking fact that this place is already surrounded by Mance and every Freefolk in Hardhome."

Her eyes widened in realization. "We didn't come back, they must've sent someone to know what happened." And then when they saw those black walls, brought back the army. "Then why are we here? Shouldn't they have tried raiding the pl-" No, they couldn't.

"If its like you said, they can't make it past the tree line," he growled out, thinking more on the subject. "And we're still alive is because they want us that way to. . ." His face scrunched for answers, before reaching some conclusion. "They want us to fucking calm things down. They don't want to fight us, they want to use us."

Fuck! If like he said, then the whole army is here, but there's nothing they can do. Mance would either leave them to the IMC but keep an eye on this place, or try for a full charge. No, he wasn't the type of man to dive headfirst, he's a patient man who'd wait things out. And if those Slone and Bello women were convinced enough to use them, some decisions were being made that are far from friendly.

"So we have two options," he continued. "They kill the both of us, leaving things as they are and likely lead to a war." Which means a massive amount of death with the weapons these people have, and the dead that will return only to become more of a problem. "Or we can take one of these fuckers to Mance, and have them hash things out."

"Tormund," she called, knowing his tone. "There's no way to know if these people could even help, they may as well be worse."

Of all things, he laughed sourly. "If they can help, then they kill the Others. If not, then the Others kill them. Fuck 'em both." He took a deep breath. "I know the decision I want to make, what about you?"

Damn him, Giantsbane, the giant oaf that he was, had a point. "Fuck, let's do it." She had no pleasure in agreeing to the idea, but at least it was something that could be done that didn't kill them just yet.

Mance was King-Beyond-The-Wall, it was his decision of what the allied tribes and clans would do. Him being a southernly lord at one point, he'll have a better idea of talking to these magic people than she could.

Almost too conveniently, the dark woman from before came back into the room, so much so that Ygritte knew they were listening in. Of all she'd seen, being able to hear them while not in the room didn't seem as mad.

"Have you made your decision yet?" the elder woman asked as she looked to the two of them.

"We have," Tormund said. "First off, you can fuck yourself, I know you heard us." Bello shrugged, not intending on hiding it. "Second, what deal you want to give, you take it to Mance Rayder, he's our king, he's the one who makes the decisions."

She looked a little confused. "I thought Freefolk have no king?"

"It's a special occasion," he said annoyed. "Is there an army of Freefolk out there?" She nodded uncaringly. "And you don't want to kill them?"

"I'd prefer not to. The IMC would rather have you as an ally than an enemy, less stress and pain that way." She raised her hands placatingly. "There are some who would rather kill them all, but so far cooler heads prevailed, though that could not be the case should there be no progress."

 _'Damn her,'_ Ygritte thought with grit teeth, playing with the choice of killing them or not like it was some play time. "Thirdly," she said, getting the attention on her. "Anyone who wants to talk with Mance comes alone." She gestured to Bello. "You."

The woman didn't look too happy and was about to respond, but she pressed her hand against her ear for a few seconds, then nodded to no one. "Understood," she finally said. "You two are to be my guides, however."

"Guides or guards?"

"Both. If you try anything that would endanger me or the IMC." She snapped her fingers. "The IMC wouldn't give a second thought in destroying your people here and in Hardhome all at once. I'm telling you what they told me." She tapped on some odd stone in her ear. "I can to them through this, and they talk to me."

Fucking hells these people.

The woman came around to Ygritte and reached for her neck. While she was tempted to bite the woman's fingers off, she waited, and watched as she gently took the collar of her with a small chirping sound.

"There," Bello said, taking that damned thing and throwing it onto the table. She looked to Tormund. "Your. . . situation needs a few more hands, but they are on their way to release you." He grunted, the closest thing she'd get for appreciation. Turning back to her, she gestured to her cuffed hands. "They'll come here soon to release you as well."

Ygritte didn't know what to feel about this. She wasn't as confident considering what these people can do, and they could just as easily betray the Mance and them. With all she'd seen, she told herself it was better if they had them on their side, but that didn't mean she'd trust them.

"My name's Asha Bello, by the way," she introduced herself again. "Since I'm gonna be under your protection, I thought you might as well know." Her tone was friendly, but it wasn't enough to sooth her mind.

Protection? Yeah, right. Still, she relented. "Name's Ygritte, and don't you fucking think we'll be easy enemies if we ever fought."

Bello smiled and shook her head. "The thought never crossed my mind."

* * *

 **I hate Battle Royale, but there's something about Apex Legends that I think is pretty cool. I've never been even attracted to Fortnite, PUBG, or Blackout, but something about Respawn's Apex keeps drawing me back. What can I say? I like the game.**

 **Reviews, it's all I look forward to!**


	9. Raiders, Rebellors And Righteous Fire

.

 **Chapter 9**

 **Shorter chapter than usual, sorry about that, but any more then it would just be pointless filler.**

* * *

 **In A World Where Fire Is Powerful, Thermite Shall Prove Superior In That Domain; Though With It, Very Little Shall Remain!**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Raiders, Rebellors And Righteous Fire**

Ygritte looked behind her, seeing the massive metal gate close on its own, then to her side to see Tormund looking impressed.

"Well, that was certainly something to see," he said, and turned to the dark-skinned woman with them. "How the fuck did you get to make a place this massive so quickly?"

Massive? One could call it that. She'd never seen a castle before, they were supposed to be marvelously large homes made of stone, but fuck that, this place was bigger than dreams and made of metal. Castles can piss right off.

Colonel Bello shrugged. "We have our means, especially when needs demand it." Her winter clothes were very different from their own, looked light but seemed to keep her warm better than the Freefolk's furs. Probably more magic, Ygritte figured. At this point, she'd guess their shoes are magic just for the hell of it. "Though the best I can explain is that the IMC have experience in creating similar bases of operations in haste."

"And how does one make such a base with so many soldiers without us noticing, hmm?"

Again, Bello shrugged. "Not our fault you aren't aware of your surroundings." Bitch. "We weren't here long, and we were bound to be found sooner or later. Combined with our advanced means of construction, and your difficulty in navigating large amounts of snowy terrain, it's mostly up to chance."

"Chance?" he asked, to which she nodded. "Anymore shit-out-of-your-arse you'd like to share?"

She wasn't impressed. "I gave you my answer, take it or leave it, up to you." She gestured ahead of them. "However, I'd say we have far more important things to do."

Ygritte looked ahead, and she agreed with the dark woman. And more so, proved Tormund's words correct. _'Seven fucking hells, Mance brought out all of Hardhome.'_ She doubted it was for just the two of them, but because this place was just that colossal in size. Still, she appreciated being able to live at the end of it. She didn't expect it after she seen everything that happened.

"I'll follow you," Bello told them. "And I was told to remind you that should you or your people turn violent, we were given orders to neutraliz- Erm, _kill_ any threat to the IMC." She gestured above them. "I'm sure you have an idea of what that means."

Both Freefolk looked upwards, seeing those monoliths with large pipes begin turning in their place, pointing at different parts of Mance's army. _'They had one pointed directly at us when we first came. They knew where we were since the beginning and waited to see what we'd do.'_ The realization sent chills down her spine.

"Then let's move," Tormund said as he strode forward across the snow, and the two women followed behind. "I'm going to assume those on top of your walls are similar to that 'gun' of yours."

"Yes, but far more complicated," Bello answered. "The gun Slone shot your ear with shoots simply metal bullets, or arrows if you want to call it that. Those on top of the walls, however, they're called cannons, and they fire large shells. We call them that because what's inside a shell can be anything we need depending on the situation. The one used to neutralize your scouting party is called high-explosive fragmentation, meant to eliminate groups of foot soldiers quickly in a large area. We could, for example, load an incendiary shell that emphasizes covering an area in fire for area denial, or smoke shells that clouds an area to reduce the enemy's visibility."

Fucking hells, this Asha woman certainly seemed to be gloating on the matter of the lethality of their 'canons'. And considering what she'd seen, she believed it all. Mance was right to hold back until they came through, she didn't feel like all of Hardhome had a chance. The group they came in with couldn't handle a single one, but now with dozens of them around? No, it was right to be cautious.

"Covers an area in fire, you say?" Tormund asked.

"Exactly that. Though those types of shells won't be so useful with all this snow. It'll cover an area in fire for sure, but only for a few seconds until the snow puts it out." She shrugged. "Though if it ever came to it, those wights of yours would've been burned to a crisp before then."

Tormund looked to her. "You can move those hulking things?"

"The canons? No, those stay where they are. They're made for base defense, and that's exactly what they'll do."

"Then how in the hells are you going to help us kill the army of the dead?"

"We have more fire-based weapons than just the canons." She snorted. "Scorch types comes to mind."

"Scorch types? The fuck are those?" From the name, it had to be fire-based.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Bello said. "Besides, if those wights are that big an issue, you'll see them soon enough." She gestured ahead. "I'd say focus on the few soldiers headed to meet us halfway, because they have their swords out."

Ygritte saw them, and saw that Bello wanted them to make sure that those swords were only decoration, because they'd be damned if it was for anything else.

They stopped halfway in the snow, standing between an army, and a wall that brings fire upon those that go against it. They're group was three, but this welcome party had ten men and women, all Freefolk, thankfully none were Thenns. Ygritte didn't know if Mance managed to get them on their side during their capture, but considering the Others and what needed to be done, the Thenns would join one way or another.

"Tormund," said the woman leading the group. Karsi, if she remembered right. Strong fighter, good leader, and a damn more smart than most at Hardhome. "Glad to see you're alive." She nodded to Ygritte. "Your red girl, too." Then nodded to their third. "Who's your friend?"

He looked to the colonel, then back to the spearwife. "She's from that fortress, and her people want to meet with Mance."

Karsi narrowed her eyes. "And why would we allow them that? Especially when they made a fucking castle in the middle of our lands."

"Because they say they can deal with our White Walker problem." That shut her up. "Put your swords away, you might as well be carrying twigs." He glared at them all when they didn't even move. "Put them away, or I'll sheath them myself in your fucking chests."

Karsi turned to the men and nodded, having her soldiers place their blades in their sheathes. "At least you _are_ actually Tormund. I'll take you to Mance and you can say your piece, under heavy watch."

Giantsbane grunted, Ygritte doubted any of them could have expected anything less.

Like the spearwife said, the soldiers she was with encircled them, and it stayed that way as they walked to a towards the Freefolk army. Their blades might've been sheathed, spears pointed away, but any wrong move, she felt she would quickly be impaled all the same, even if she was one of them.

The eyes around them particularly stuck to Asha Bello, whether for her dark skin or her queer-looking garments, they had plenty of reason to be cautious, but not the right ones. Ygritte's own eyes went to Bello's waist, where she had one of those guns, sheathed in its own little pocket. They Freefolk around them didn't know, and she would make up for it.

They passed through the first line of the army, and they parted away as easily as sword through bare flesh. No one talked, but they all stared at them. Tormund and Ygritte wore their Freefolk garb, freshly cleaned when returned, according to Bello, so it shouldn't be them, but they stared regardless.

When they finally reached the tent, an older man was waiting outside. She knew who he was, they all knew, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder.

"Good to see you alive, Tormund," he said. "I wasn't sure if you've been killed or worse."

Giantsbane shrugged. "I'm not easy to kill. After today, I'm going to drown myself in soured goat milk."

"I'm sure you will," Mance snorted, then looked to the woman behind them. "And I assume you brought me someone from inside." He nodded. "Or is it that they forced you to bring her here?" Again, he nodded. "For war or submission?"

"A bit of both, really."

Ygritte turned to Bello, and she looked far from pleased. And from the look of it, licking the sides of her teeth in impatience.

"They want to talk with you," Tormund said. "They sent her as an envoy, and the two of us as her protection."

He snorted once more. "From what I've seen, you two they need least as protection." Mance gestured to the steel wall. "I saw what those things do, and considering I see only two of you out of the large scouting party, I assume you know what they do as well."

"Somewhat. Either way, the two of us are here for insurance. Those on the walls are only part of what I've seen, and we've been allowed to live to make sure you understood."

Concern grew on Mance's face, and stared long at Colonel Bello's hard face. She showed no emotion, her face as though carved from stone.

"We've stood out here long enough," he suddenly said. "You three come inside with me." He turned to Karsi. "You and five men, as well." She nodded and picked out who would be the guards of this meeting, while Mance went into his tent with two other men.

"Come on, then," Karsi said, three men behind her, and lifted the flap of the tent. "You want to talk, dark woman, then let's talk. You first."

Bello frowned, but held her tongue and ducked under the flap and went inside. Then Karsi looked at Tormund and Ygritte, and gestured for them to get in as well.

Tormund looked to Ygritte and shrugged. "The sooner this is over, the sooner I'm knee-deep in goat milk."

"Or we all die in scorching flame," Ygritte countered.

"Well, at least we'll finally die warm." He turned and went into the tent.

' _Bastard,'_ she thought in grim amusement, and followed close behind, with Karsi and the three men behind her. Inside, Mance sat on a short stool, across of him was the IMC envoy, Asha Bello, standing with arms crossed behind her back, Tormund off to the side with a Freefolk guard, in the room was also a small table with an empty stool.

"Sit," Mance told the colonel, to which she did and crossed her hands on top of the table. "Drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Bello said, for the first time since joining them.

Mance hummed. "So, who are you?"

"I am Asha Bello," she said. "I hold the rank of colonel and I'm under the employment of the Interstellar Mining Corporation, though easier to refer to them as simple the IMC."

"A mining company?" he asked, taken aback. "I'd have though you people were a military, not some merchants that sell ores."

"The IMC is particularly large, as I'm sure you all noticed." Several people snorted. "We have business in precious metals, technology, and weapons, thus we employ our own armies, augmented with a hired mercenary force."

"All well and good, and why are you people here?"

"The IMC have found a certain energy present in these lands, and invested funds, resources, and manpower in finding it. While our search continues, we have an idea of where it might be."

Mance leaned onto his leg, stroking his chin. "Found an energy? Lady Bello, you speak like those red priests. Any other day I'd have called you insane and thrown you into the frozen rivers to bring you back to your sense, but this isn't any normal day, and you are not normal people." He turned to Tormund. "What say you? You've been in there, what have you seen?"

Giantsbane stepped forward. "Nothing too bad," he answered haphazardly. "Horseless wagons that move on their own. Bottles of lights that hang from the ceilings. Metal puppets the size of men that move as though they're alive. Little, metal crossbows half the size of my cock that shoots better than any longbow." He took off the bandage on his ear, showing the wound from before. "Those little fuckers make holes in people."

Mance turned to Ygritte. "And you?"

She thought on what she'd seen, organized it in her mind, and said, "a slave collar that brings pain throughout your body under the control of the owner. People that can run on walls, with backs ablaze in fire. Helms that block arrows nigh feet away." Her eyes went to Bello. "A mirror that showed me a birds-eye view of Hardhome."

Every Freefolk face in the room turned grim.

"Girl, explain," Mance demanded, not tearing his eyes away from Asha.

She nodded. "When captured, one of their soldiers interrogated me, and threatened me with a view of Hardhome, as though eyes were flying right above the main tent, people walking around like ants, fires spotting the village. They told me that they could easily destroy all of it, right from here, their main hold."

Rayder scowled, a face she had seen very few times, mostly when other Freefolk tribes threatened him or his wife with war and rape. It was a face when Mance hated what he heard, and knew it must be dealt with.

"She's right," Bello said. "We have done all that she said." She sat straighter. "What's more, we have the capabilities to turn Hardhome into nothing but a smoldering crater and more."

"And yet, here we are," the King-Beyond-the-Wall responded. "Talking to each other at a table. Tormund said you people came with an offer for me. What do you people want?"

Bello reached for her pocket, and the swords and short spears immediately leveled at her. She lifted a hand placatingly, and slowly drew out a folded piece of parchment. "Your lands are very interesting," she said as she began spreading the paper across the table. "We have tools used for accurate scanning of areas from a distance. How far, the number is something very difficult for you to wrap your heads around." The paper showed a map of the land north of the wall. "I assume this is as accurate as a map of your lands as we're going to get."

Mance peered over. "It is. I believe there are similar ones in castles south of the Wall, made by the Night's Watch." His accusation was visible in his statement. Ygritte knew Rayder was once a crow, he would know such things. If the IMC were working with the crows already, then they must be working southern lords. What this meant, she didn't know, she needed to ask Mance.

"How we got hold of one doesn't matter, you can assume as you like," Bello said, and quickly gestured to a line drawn across the northern part of Freefolk lands. "This map is clearly incomplete, and North of this line, scanning and mapping tools don't work, it may be because the energy we're searching for is there, or not. Regardless, the IMC must know for sure."

From what Ygritte could see, Bello was pointing to an area that she knew was always plagued by heavy clouds. The crows made a map thanks to their constant need to shove their nose up here, but even then, any further north is unknown territory. The Lands of Always Winter was a wasteland with very few tribes dumb enough to live in, but north of that, no one alive knows. If one did, they were lying.

"The IMC want to conduct a scouting party further north, with the aid of your people."

Mance stared for a while, then laughed an unamused laugh. "You can go by yourselves. You have the weapons; you have your ability to erect large cities with steel walls without anyone noticing. You don't need us, so you can feel free to march onto those blasted lands yourself."

"Not without experts, we won't. It's too risky for us who have no experience in those lands, and some of our more important tools crippled for unknown reasons that could only be found up there."

He stood from his seat, leaning forward onto the table. "Do your people even know what's there, what's making us abandon our homes, burn our dead?"

Even though he was aggravated, Colonel Bello was as calm as ever. "The girl, Ygritte, told us about your 'unkillable' White Walkers and their dead army of wights. How they are being led south, killing all men, women, and children, adding them to their already vast number."

"Then you know why it's pure _fucking_ suicide to go there."

It was what tipped things, even the cold Asha Bello stood from her seat, swords and spears again levelled onto her. "That's why I came here with an offer, not a demand."

"Then speak it!" he shouted. "I'm tired of dancing around, tell me your damn offer."

Bello, again, pointed on the map where all Freefolk flee from, but neither Mance nor her broke eye contact. "Take us there, help us search for our onjective, and in return, we'll kill every White Walker and wight."

Mance burst out in laughter, one of ridicule. "Nothing can kill them. Your wall defenses might, I do not know, but the Others will not wait for you to build them, they will swarm you. It is futile."

Asha stood straight, swords and spears orienting themselves to stay on her. "Nothing is unkillable, you just couldn't find a way," she said. "If there's one thing the IMC is good at, it's finding ways to kill our enemies." She turned to Tormund and gestured to the guard beside him. "Take his shield and block."

Giantsbane narrowed his eyes at the sudden demand, but when Bello quickly drew something from one of her pockets and aimed it at him. Both he and Ygritte's eyes widened. But only Giantsbane wasn't so slow.

He quickly snatched the man's shield away, kick him away in exclamation, grit his teeth, and immediately put the shield's face between him and the insane IMC woman. Ygritte saw the gun spit bright orange flame, and it hit Tormund's shield, pushing him onto the ground, and lighting the wooden heater shield on fire.

Everyone in the tent exclaimed and closed in on Bello, and all she did was raise her hands as though unarmed. Karsi was first to grab her into a hold, and brought her to the ground with her knife on her neck. More soldiers began forcing their way into their tent, spears and swords ready for a fight.

"WAIT!" Tormund shouted. "Ah, fucking hells!" He cursed as he through the alight shield onto the snowy floor, smothering it. "Don't harm her or we're all fucking dead!"

"He's right," Bello said uncomfortably as Karsi stood upon her. "If anything happens to me, the base will rain this area with fire, burning all of you into ash. That was our deal with these two."

Ygritte grit her teeth. She knew that these IMC people had a way to communicate over long distances, and considering their ability to see Hardhome, she had a nagging feeling that the fort knows exactly what's going on.

"Gods damn you, let her go!" he shouted at Karsi, then turned to Mance. "Get things under control, or the Others won't be the ones that end us."

Mance stared at the chaos happening in the tent. Where there was once ten people now there were more than twenty, steel drawn and screaming for blood of who perpetrated this mess.

"Enough!" their king shouted. "All who weren't here, leave immediately." People paused, but didn't move. "Did I stutter? Move!" It was slow at first, people sheathing their blades begrudgingly before slowly stepping out in single file. With order restored, he turned to Asha, who was still on the floor with Karsi's knife on her neck. "What did you do?"

Asha was allowed to turn to Mance. "A performance of one of our weapons." She gestured to the gun on the floor near her. "The Mozambique, a powerful weapon that shoots flaming thermite pellets that burns near that of the temperatures of the surface of the sun." She paused. "Though that one was purposefully underpowered, for experiment's sake." She turned to Tormund. "If it was the standard power, it would burn through even metal shields, whoever behind it, as though they were being burned alive." His face lost some color at the explanation of how he was almost killed. She looked to Mance once more. "I hear your wights can only be killed by fire, and we have these in surplus."

Ygritte couldn't believe it, a gun that shoots burning embers, setting even hardy wooden shields on fire. If things like that Mozambique were used in their army, then the Others' army won't be so unkillable. And from the look on Mance's face, he held similar thoughts.

"Karsi, let her go," he ordered unhappily.

The spearwife frowned, but slowly moved the knife away, and freed her from her hold. "I don't trust these people, Mance," she informed him. "I'd almost rather trust the crows and the milksop cunts south of the wall."

Mance made sound that he almost agreed. "The milksops don't have weapons that shoot fire and engulf whatever it hits in flame." He placed his fallen chair back in place, and watched as Bello picked herself up and do the same. They both sat as before, as though nothing happened.

Bello put a hand forward. "Do we have a deal, Mance Rayder?" she asked. "Your help in scouting north, and in return, we help you and your people kill your army of the dead."

Mance stared long and hard at the gloved hand of one Colonel Asha Bello, envoy of the IMC, and the one who offered their salvation against coming storm. What would they do after it all, no one could say, but Ygritte knew that if they didn't take this, the future was a mixture of blood and snow.

Mance snatched the woman's hand. "A wise choice," Bello said.

"No," Mance replied. "It was the only choice."

* * *

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